


under the thousands

by jenhyung



Series: a series of domestic events [6]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 13:20:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12749130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenhyung/pseuds/jenhyung
Summary: a collection of shorts, drabbles, fillers from theasodeuniverse! (doyoung/taeyong, youngho/taeil)





	1. content

[(17 november)

hello, it's ryan/jenhyung! i'll delete this a/n when i've gotten everything sorted but i'm just trying this out to see if it'll work! basically, i have a lot of domestic-y ideas for the couples in twenty four/loopholes, but most of them have turned out under 10k words, which, i feel, is too low of a word count to have it as a separate work :( so i decided to have one fic listed, and in this fic, there will be drabbles, shorts and fillers posted, chapter by chapter! i already have some lined up, so i'll go ahead and post those first... if the reception is good and if it's not confusing, i'll keep it up, but if megafics (like twenty four/loopholes) are preferred, i'll stick to those instead!

let me know on my [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/jenhyung) if you have any requests you'd like to see these two pairings (doyoung/taeyong, youngho/taeil) in (maybe like a one word prompt or a setting!) and i'll try to work around it! :) if the prompt is really good, i might turn it into a megafic! thank you for reading, i hope you enjoy the first two chapters!]

 

* * *

 

all chapters can be read as standalones, but all works are related. there might be repeats of information over the ones that overlap, but none of it should be too repetitive. as of now, this universe spans over 10 years. as works are posted in a non-linear fashion,  **asode time period** should help with visualising the plot in it’s entirety. megafics (10k and up!) are listed under '[a series of domestic events](https://archiveofourown.org/series/873036)'! 

 

 _timeline_  
  
**year 1**  
[honeymoon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13999893/) (taeil/youngho) (10k+)  
[the one with the decorations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12749130/chapters/29374218) (taeil/youngho) (2k+)

 **year 3**  
[elementary](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12855222) (yuta/jaehyun) (16k+)  
  
**year 4**  
[the one where it's pink](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12749130/chapters/29528727/) (taeyong) (1k+)  
[the one where taeil falls from a tree](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12749130/chapters/29080743) (youngho/taeil) (4k+)  
[loopholes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12738549) (taeyong/doyoung) (30k+)  
  
**year 5**  
[the one with the nivea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12749130/chapters/29080470) (taeyong/doyoung) (1k+)  
[four-by-four](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14048271) (doyoung/taeyong) (2k+)  
[the one from the magazine](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12749130/chapters/30546813/) (taeyong/doyoung) (4k+)  
  
**year 6**  
[twenty-four](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12485536) (youngho/taeil) (12k+)  
  
**year 7**  
[the one where doyoung isn't sick](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12749130/chapters/29152143) (doyoung/taeyong) (1k+)  
[the one with the toothbrush](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12749130/chapters/35595756/preview) (taeyong/doyoung) (1k+)

 

 

* * *

 

 

_summaries by chapter_

title:  _ **[the one with the nivea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12749130/chapters/29080470)**_  
pairing: taeyong/doyoung  
genre: fluff (drabble)  
rating: general (kissing)  
word count: 1k+  
asode time period: year 5, january

*

title: **_[the one where taeil falls from a tree](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12749130/chapters/29080743)_**  
pairing: youngho/taeil   
genre: fluff, slight angst (drabble)  
rating: mature (kissing, blowjobs)  
word count: 4k+  
asode time period: year 4, december

*

title:  _ **[the one where doyoung isn't sick](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12749130/chapters/29152143)**_  
pairing: doyoung/taeyong   
genre: fluff (drabble)  
rating: general (kissing)  
word count: 1k+  
asode time period: year 7, april

*

title:  _ **[the one with the decorations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12749130/chapters/29374218)**_  
pairing: taeil/youngho  
genre: fluff (drabble)  
rating: general (kissing)  
word count: 2k+  
asode time period: year 1, december

*

title:  _ **[the one where it's pink](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12749130/chapters/29528727/)**_  
pairing: taeyong-centric/doyoung  
genre: pwp (drabble)  
rating: mature (masturbation)  
word count: 1k+  
asode time period: year 4, june 

*

title: _**[the one from the magazine](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12749130/chapters/30546813/)**_  
pairing: taeyong/doyoung  
genre: pwp and feelings (drabble)  
rating: mature (rimming, fucking)  
word count: 4k+  
asode time period: year 5, september

*

title: _**[the one with the toothbrush](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12749130/chapters/35595756/)**_  
pairing: taeyong/doyoung  
genre: fluff (drabble)  
rating: general (kissing)  
word count: 1k+  
asode time period: year 7, april

 

 


	2. the one with the nivea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> taeyong / doyoung, fluff, 1k+ (kissing)  
> (takes place one month after they get together)
> 
>  **asode time period** : year 4, january

Taeyong likes it in the winter. It was always fun, especially when he was younger; running out in a fluffy jacket, sledding down tiny hills of snow out on the street, hauling large armfuls of it in the air, musing at the way the flakes drop from the sky, a sort of pure innocence in loving the way his breath swirls when he exhaled.

He still likes it the same now. Hot cocoa warming up their hands, watching reruns of really badly made Christmas movies, legs tangled, kisses under a blanket, _sex_ under a blanket, hot and stuffy and _good_. It wasn’t just Christmas, the cold air and piles of untouched snow in the mornings always made Taeyong feel ironically warm. Taeil always joked that he was a reincarnation of Jack Frost.

Winters, however, would be a lot better if Doyoung would just _please_ , put on some chapstick.

“I don’t like the taste of it.” His boyfriend grumbles, tilting away from the uncapped Nivea Taeyong has in his fingers. He tries to hold Doyoung down, but the boy is strong when he wants to be, holding Taeyong by the wrists, far from his face.

“Your lips are too dry,” Taeyong scolds, but Doyoung’s pout has him sighing, sitting back on his heels. One of the things Taeyong has learnt ever since they started dating, was the hatred Doyoung had for chapstick, and his refusal to use any sort of it on his lips. His tendency to pick at his lips whenever he was blanking out or deep in thought undoubtedly worsened the state of them throughout the coldest of winters. It tortured Taeyong to see them bleeding, the usually soft skin cracking, scabbing. “C’mon, I promise this one is tasteless!”

Doyoung wrinkles his nose, still holding Taeyong’s hands away from him. He narrows his eyes, tone accusatory, “That’s what you said about Vaseline.”

Taeyong thinks about the array of chapsticks, lip glosses, and lip blams sitting at the bottom of his bedside drawer. Most of them were opened, used only once. The boy at Target probably thought Taeyong ate them as a strange obsession or some sort of day time snack.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Taeyong caps the Nivea, defeated. Doyoung looks at him carefully, as if he was trying to make sure Taeyong wasn’t going to pull something on him. When Taeyong gives him a pointed look, Doyoung relaxes, pulling him close, and Taeyong buries his face into Doyoung’s warm chest.

“No,” Doyoung is defiant. Taeyong tilts his head up to find Doyoung chewing on his bottom lip. Tutting, he pushes on Doyoung’s chin lightly, urging him to stop. “It’s just a habit.”

“It’s a bad habit,” Taeyong mutters, toying with the Nivea. The blue logo stares back at him, equally upset that it was going back into Taeyong’s drawer, unused. “It looks like it hurts.”

Doyoung tucks his chin, sniffing at the crown of Taeyong’s head, breathing deeply, “It doesn’t.”

Taeyong had tried _everything_. He threatened to tell on Doyoung to his brother, but ended up not ratting him out when Doyoung wrestled the phone from his hands, cuddling him, mellowing his frustration with soft kisses to the lips and cheeks. He even tried to withhold kisses, refusing to press his lips to Doyoung’s, not when they looked so painfully cracked. Doyoung was quick to slather on some from Burt’s Bees, but it only lasted a few days before he was whining on Taeyong’s bed, rolling on his stomach, complaining about much he hated the feeling of it on his lips. Taeyong retracted his punishment almost immediately, unable to resist Doyoung’s pleas, kissing his boyfriend silly as a prize for his three days of good behaviour.

“Doesn’t it hurt when I kiss you?” Taeyong inches upwards, resting his cheek on the back of the couch, trailing a finger along Doyoung’s jaw.

“No,” Doyoung breathes, eyes already focused on Taeyong’s lips. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and Taeyong can’t stop himself from smacking his boyfriend lightly. “Okay, ow?”

“Saliva makes it worse,” Taeyong furrows his brows, pouting. He thumbs Doyoung’s lower lip gently, softly, but Doyoung still flinches when his finger threads over a particularly bad dent. “It _does_ hurt!”

Doyoung holds his hand in place, kissing his thumb, and Taeyong rolls his eyes. “Only a little,” he admits quietly. Taeyong frowns, shifting a little more in Doyoung’s lap.

The Nivea is still in his hands, and Taeyong uncaps it again.

“No...” Doyoung groans in disapproval, already leaning away from Taeyong.

“Relax,” Taeyong hums, applying the chapstick to his own lips, enjoying the way Doyoung’s eyes follow the movement. He coats on more than enough, capping it again after. Taeyong sighs, coloring it to sound a little more like a moan, hand creeping up Doyoung’s pale neck. Doyoung’s hands are immediately on Taeyong’s hips, hungry fingers digging gently into the waistband of his boxers, cold on hot skin. “Will you kiss me?” He murmurs, angling his chin up, parting his lips to present them to Doyoung, plump and glossed.

He doesn’t take much insult when Doyoung hesitates, eyeing his lips warily, but dipping down when Taeyong caresses his cheek encouragingly. Doyoung presses their lips together, and Taeyong moans loudly as a reward. He kisses Doyoung harder, happy now that he’s (figuratively) got the boy under him, moving his lips in hopes of healing Doyoung’s peeling ones. Doyoung seems to take bait, lips falling open to let Taeyong lick at his tongue and teeth. Taeyong sits straighter, carding his fingers through Doyoung’s hair, smiling when he feels Doyoung relax under him. He straddles Doyoung, briefly forgetting his plans of transferring a smidgen of gloss from his lips onto Doyoung’s, concentrating on kissing instead.

They kiss for a while more, Taeyong still dragging his fingers against Doyoung’s scalp, other hand mindlessly caressing his neck and cheeks. Doyoung’s hands feel a little warmer now, tracing circles onto Taeyong’s hipbones, touch feather light. When Taeyong pulls away, Doyoung whines, arms snaking around his waist to pull their bodies flush.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Taeyong laughs breathlessly.

Doyoung leans his head back against the couch, thinking for a second, then smacking his lips. He groans immediately, hiding his nose into Taeyong’s chest, inhaling deeply, still hugging onto him tightly.

“What is it?”

“You lied,” Doyoung’s voice is muffled. “It tastes bad.”

Taeyong feigns offense, “Are you saying I taste bad?”

“No,” Doyoung whines, wriggling Taeyong in his arms, like a child holding onto a plushie. “The chapstick. You taste good.”

Taeyong accepts the compliment, exhaling loudly, “Guess I’ll just have to keep trying.”

Doyoung groans, pushing Taeyong down into his back, chucking the chapstick away before Taeyong can reach for it again.

“That costs money, I’ll have you know,” Taeyong looks forlornly towards the general direction of where the Nivea was tossed.

“Will kissing you make you feel better about it?” Doyoung grins, licking his lips again.

“Not with those lips it won’t,” Taeyong says, but he leans up to kiss Doyoung anyway. Even with his eyes closed, Taeyong feels Doyoung smile triumphantly into the kiss, having won his way once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos + comments / criticisms are greatly appreciated ♡ feedback warmly welcomed! [twitter](https://twitter.com/jenhyungs) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/jenhyung) | [more notes](https://jenhyung.tumblr.com)


	3. the one where taeil falls from a tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> youngho / taeil, fluff, slight angst, 4k+ (kissing, blowjobs) (mention of scratches and bruises)  
> (takes place during '[loopholes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12738549)')
> 
>  **asode time period** : year 3, december

Youngho’s phone won’t stop buzzing in his pocket. It deters him from his presentation for a second or two, before his charming smile is back, and the look on his superiors’ faces are composed again. The rest of his pitch goes smoothly, without any hiccups in his slides or anymore stutters in his speech. He cracks a few well-timed jokes, and everyone in the meeting room chuckles appreciatively.

They praise him for his hard work and ideas, reassuring that someone from their company will definitely keep in touch. Youngho thanks them, politely keeping his head lowered until their feet are out of sight.

When he’s back at his desk, relieved that the day’s hurdle is over, he pulls his phone from his pocket, wondering who could be needing him so urgently,

 

 **kang seulgi (taeil)** : missed calls (4)  
**kang seulgi (taeil)** : youngho, call me back asap!

 

_Taeil._

He doesn't know if he should sit in his desk, what with the tone of Seulgi’s text. His heartbeat starts to quicken, pressing the call button nervously,

“Youngho?”

“Hey, Seulgi, yeah, I got your texts, what –”

“You need to get down here quick, Taeil’s hurt.”

His heart hits the carpeted floors. His knees lose strength, forcing him to sink into his roller chair. _Hurt?_ Youngho’s mind is whirling. _An accident?_

“What –”

Youngho has to stifle the biggest laugh of his life when Seulgi says,

“He fell from a tree trying to save a cat.”

Relief is immediate, and then he’s laughing, even though he really shouldn’t be. His co-worker, Minki, a web designer with wide eyes, sends him a glare for causing a commotion in their quiet workspace.

“He –” Youngho heaves, thumping his head onto the desk, muffling his laughter into an arm. “Is he okay?”

Seulgi laughs as well, “Hold on, let me get him on the phone for you.”

The line is quiet for a minute. Youngho smiles to himself, eyes catching sight of a framed picture of the two of them, sitting proudly on his desk.

“Youngho?” Taeil’s voice is small, maybe a little tired, a lot embarrassed.

“Babe,” Youngho murmurs into the receiver. He reaches for the photo, loving the smile on Taeil, the way his thin arms are wrapped around Youngho’s waist. “Are you okay? Do you want me to come get you?”

It’s silent on Taeil’s end, “Please?” Then, “Wait.” And then, “No, it's okay, you’re at work and you have that pitch later, I’ll just –”

“It just ended,” Youngho can’t seem to tear his eyes from the photo, marvelling at how they looked together. It was taken on Youngho’s birthday, and he still had cake frosting smushed on his cheeks, courtesy of Kim Doyoung. “I’ll come get you now. Do you need to see a doctor?”

“No.” He envisions Taeil shaking his head. Youngho grabs his laptop and backpack, hurriedly leaving his desk. “It's just a couple of scratches.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Seulgi is back on the phone again, just as Youngho apologises to his project manager that _Something’s cropped up at home,_ and his manager waves him off with a, _Let me know if you’re coming in tomorrow. Good job today, Youngho._ “He fell from a _tree,_ Youngho, and it was a pretty hard fall.”

Youngho frowns at that, “Wouldn’t it be better if I met you guys at the hospital?”

When Seulgi relays the message, Youngho can hear Taeil from the other end,

“I don’t need to go to the hospital, I’m _fine_.”

Which was code for, _No, I’m not fine._

“Tell him I’m on my way.”

 

x

 

Taeil is resting in the breakroom when Youngho arrives, a little breathless by the jog he took from the subway station. Seulgi meets him out front, explaining that the thing that hurt most was probably Taeil’s pride. At that, Youngho takes a second to compose himself, lest he laughs at his clumsy boyfriend.

“Taeil?”

There’s a humidifier by the corner of the room, at the edge of Taeil’s feet, where he sat in a chair, arms stretched out in front of him.

“Oh, love,” Youngho sighs sympathetically when Taeil blinks up from his phone, lips seemingly in a perpetual pout. He crosses the space between them easily, leaving his work bag on the far table. On one knee, he rests a hand gingerly on Taeil’s thigh, eyes raking over the angry red lines scratched into his pale arms. Most of them didn’t break skin, but one or two were already starting to scab. “How – what –”

Taeil rolls his head to look down at Youngho, reaching to touch his neck, “I fell…”

He runs a hand up Taeil’s torso, rising a little to press a kiss to Taeil’s lips, soft and sweet, maybe even trying to kiss the pain away. Youngho tries to pull him into a hug, but Taeil hisses, pulling his sore arms from him. There’s a thin sheen of what Youngho thinks to be antiseptic.

“Does it hurt badly?” Youngho mumbles into Taeil’s hair, holding him close, but careful not to touch his arms.

“No,” Taeil shakes his head, burying his nose into Youngho’s waist. “But I want to go home.”

When they leave, Seulgi tells Taeil not to come in to work tomorrow, to make sure he gets a good day of rest. Youngho has to huddle Taeil into their Uber before the preschool teacher can refuse the day off. He leans on Youngho’s shoulders the entire ride, particularly clingy.

Youngho has always admired Taeil’s determination to be independent. Always insisting on doing things on his own, denying help. The barrier they had to cross from best friends to lovers was a difficult one; Taeil wasn’t used to having Youngho at his every beck and call, and Youngho refused to let Taeil handle things on his own, wanting to be there with him every step of the way. It was a bit of a hurdle when it came down to it, but two years of dating has equipped Youngho with enough knowledge to know when to pull away, and when to embrace Taeil.

There was another side of Taeil, needy and whiny, that shone whenever he was sick or injured or moody. Oftentimes, Youngho preferred Taeil this way, but regardless, he loved him all the same.

“I’ll help you shower,” Youngho murmurs once they step into their apartment. He leaves his bag by the dining table, while Taeil moves to open the windows, letting some of the winter air into their stuffy living room. Youngho strips down to his boxers before padding into their bathroom to find Taeil painstakingly try and pull his shirt up and over his head. Wordlessly, he goes over to help, and Taeil lets him, sighing loudly. Youngho helps get his jeans off too, thumbs hooking over his boxers, letting Taeil step out of them in one swift move.

Youngho then sheds his own underwear, leaving them on one of the bathroom hooks before joining Taeil in the shower. The water hits them cold, and Taeil shies away, cowering into Youngho’s arms while the water heats up.

“We haven’t done this in a while,” Taeil says over the rush of water. Youngho turns them around, standing directly under the shower, getting most of the hit.

“Together?” Youngho runs his hands over the shorter man’s shoulders, and Taeil leans back, eyes shut. He lifts his arms out and away from the water raining down, and Youngho winces inwardly at the (fading) marks.

Taeil hums in agreement. They’ve been busy with work, what with Youngho’s endless streams of projects and Taeil’s increasing workload at the preschool. It wasn’t like they didn’t see each other every night, but Youngho thinks that, yes, he does miss when they were back in college with a dollop more of free time.

Youngho lathers Taeil’s hair with shampoo, and then rinses. He washes Taeil down while waiting for the conditioner to work its magic. Taeil squirms when Youngho crouches to run his hands down and up his legs, but it was nothing to shy around, not when Youngho’s practically memorised every plane and curve of his body.

“There’s a bruise on your back,” Youngho reports after standing back up, picking the shower head and rinsing Taeil clean. “Does it hurt?”

Taeil shakes his head.

Towelling Taeil off is a little more of a task with how ticklish he is around the torso. Youngho is careful around the arms, but ruthless with his hair, flopping the bath towel over Taeil’s head and ruffling it playfully. Taeil scrunches his face in annoyance, but makes no move to stop Youngho from his fun.

“Here,” Youngho retrieves a pair of clean boxers (blue, with plaid prints) for Taeil, helping him into it (although Taeil could probably do it on his own). He slips his own pair on, turning to leave with the damp towels when Taeil catches his wrist, pulling him into a sweet kiss,

“Thank you,” Taeil smiles gleefully and Youngho kisses him again,

“Anytime, love.”

 

It’s already dark out by the time they shuffle back into the living room, clad in more clothes now, thanks to Youngho’s worry for Taeil catching a cold. He sends Taeil to wait by the couch while he rummages through one of their kitchen cabinets for a first aid kit, which was proudly gifted to them by Taeyong when they’d first gotten the apartment a couple of months ago.

“Hate to admit it,” Youngho says, trodding back into their living room, box in hand. “But Taeyong was right. We _do_ need one of these in the house.”

“He meant well,” Taeil pecks him on the cheek, shifting a little to let Youngho plop into the space beside him. “Behind all the sarcastic remarks.”

Youngho flips the lid open, studying the neatly arranged rows of cotton buds, medication and ointments. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

Taeil laughs, “He likes you! It’s just…”

Youngho picks out the appropriate tube of ointment, shutting the box, “What?”

Taeil mulls it over for a second, and then settles with, “It’s not my secret to tell.”

If it was anything important, Taeil would tell him, Youngho knows, and it didn’t seem like it pertained to either of them directly, so he offers, “Will I ever find out what the secret is?”

“Depends,” says Taeil, reaching over to leave the first aid kit onto their coffee table.

“On?”

Taeil pouts, “Don’t make me a bad secret-keeper.”

Youngho snorts, but his touch is gentle when he pulls Taeil close, “You’ve never been good at keeping secrets, love, so I’ll let you have this one.” He adds, “For now, at least.”

Taeil narrows his eyes, tone nothing but sarcasm, “Thank you for your mercy.”

Youngho squints back, but he eventually caves, breaking into a grin and kissing Taeil sweet. He uncaps the ointment, squeezing some onto the tip of a cotton bud carefully. Taeil inches closer, holding out his arms. But even at the faintest of faint touches, Taeil jerks away from the medication, wary of the sting. Youngho gives him a look but Taeil stares right back, unshaken by it.

“If you keep moving away, I can’t put the antiseptic on,” Youngho kisses him, intending it to be short, but Taeil holds the back of his neck in place, deepening it. Taeil climbs into his lap hurriedly, spreading his legs over Youngho’s hips and digging his knees into the couch. Youngho indulges, kissing back for a moment, just the slide of lips. “Taeil,” He mumbles once his boyfriend pulls back, but not quite out of his personal space.

“Mm?” Taeil hums, and he _licks_ Youngho’s lips, tongue prodding the seam but Youngho clamps his mouth shut, giving him a hard glare. Taeil hands roam his chest slowly, still working at Youngho’s lips, trying to get him to open up. “Mm!” He groans impatiently, but Youngho stands his ground.

When Youngho turns his head away, Taeil digs his fingers into Youngho’s neck, “You’re hurt, Taeil, let me just –”

Taeil tries to take Youngho by the lips again but Youngho is quicker, thrashing his head away. He would take Taeil like this, needy and so out of his usual shell, any other day, but his rational mind is telling Youngho to fight it; he knows just when Taeil gets like this, when he wanted his way, or he when he wanted Youngho distracted. Youngho’d only escaped Taeil’s ministrations a handful of times, but was succumbed to his boyfriend’s pleas otherwise, never wanting to deny him.

“C’mon,” Youngho tries to grab one of Taeil’s arms, but the smaller immediately jerks away, holding his arms close to him and leaning into Youngho’s chest, hiding the injuries. He tucks his head under Youngho’s chin, cheek pressed to chest. “Taeil…” He tries to be stern. Taeil doesn’t move. Youngho sighs, shifting to leave the cotton bud on the table, leaving the side with the ointment cream hanging off. He hugs Taeil close, rubbing his shoulders mindlessly.

He’d thought Taeil’d fallen asleep in his arms, but Taeil’s fingers are creeping up his chest again, naughtily trailing up and caressing his collarbone, then his neck. Youngho freezes immediately, not wanting to give Taeil any more encouragement, but it doesn’t deter him the slightest, hands eventually finding Youngho’s lips again. He runs a finger across it, and Youngho closes his eyes. Maybe it’d be better if he _didn’t_ look at how Taeil was eyeing him.

“Won’t you open up for me?” Taeil asks breathily, knowing just what Youngho likes. He shivers at the sound of Taeil’s voice, their lips _so_ close, yet not at all touching. Youngho shakes his head, but his hold on Taeil’s hips tighten. “Why not?” Taeil practically mewls, dragging his lips along Youngho’s jaw, pausing ever so often to kiss him. He sighs when Youngho doesn’t move. “I miss you, _baby_.”

The pet name sets Youngho’s insides on fire. There isn’t a time he can pinpoint _how_ the nickname came to be, but it must have happened sometime during sex because Youngho can never escape a raging hard on whenever Taeil moans it in a certain intonation, in a certain slant of the voice that rings a loop around Youngho’s heart. It might be because Taeil rarely called Youngho anything but his name, while Youngho had a slew of pet names for Taeil right up his alley.

Taeil knew just how much it affected Youngho, and for him to use it would mean he was bringing out the big guns. Snapping back to reality, Youngho tries to lean past Taeil to grab the cotton bud from the table,

“ _Baby_ ,” Taeil takes advantage of the space Youngho leaves, fully latching onto him now, wrapping himself around his neck and waist. “Let’s do something else?”

The tips of Youngho’s fingers are about to catch the cotton bud when Taeil pushes him roughly against the couch, sliding their lips together again. He kisses back in hopes of satisfying Taeil, but keeps his mouth shut, not at all entertaining Taeil’s efforts to deepen it.

“Won’t you let me taste you?” Youngho turns away, trying his best not to accede Taeil’s advances. Taeil thumbs his bottom lip, pushing slightly, but Youngho shakes it off, not willing to give in. “Please?”

“No,” Youngho says as firmly as possibly, resting his forehead on Taeil’s shoulder, far from his lips. “Your back, Taeil, you –”

“I’m fine,” Taeil insists, cupping Youngho’s jaw to tilt his head back, licking him again, more insistent this time. Youngho opens his eyes just enough to stare down his nose to look at Taeil grinning devilishly up at him. “Just kiss me?”

Youngho’s gut coils hot, but his eyes catch sight of the first aid kit. He refuses silently, knowing that Taeil will jump at any chance if he so much as parts his lips.

Taeil frowns, and Youngho thinks he might be spared. The worry is back when Taeil grinds up against his torso, already half hard, a growing tent in his boxers. Youngho groans when Taeil ruts relentlessly, tangling a hand into Youngho’s hair, tugging, other hand still holding onto his chin.

“I miss you,” Taeil whines loudly. Youngho lets himself believe it’s only half a lie. “Please?”

Taeil throws his head back, baring it to Youngho, an open invitation. He takes the chance to speak, now that Taeil’s distracted, “You need to rest tonight.”

At the sound of his voice, Taeil halts immediately, eyes hooded. He looks a little peeved, having missed his chance, but Youngho’s lips are sealed again, glaring up at him. Taeil kisses him, but he pulls away almost a second later when Youngho denies him any sort of reaction. He levels his gaze with Youngho’s, eyeing him carefully. Youngho remains composed, trying his hardest not to let his dick control his actions.

He juts out a lower lip, sighing loudly, “Fine.” Taeil shifts, “If you don’t _want_ me, then –”

It’s a trap, Youngho knows, “It’s not –”

Before he can smack his lips shut again, Taeil’s thumb hooks his jaw immediately, thumb between teeth, holding it slightly ajar. For a split second, Taeil smirks, proud and triumphant, an obvious, _I got you now._

His tongue is in Youngho’s mouth in the next, and Youngho groans in defeat, hands dipping under Taeil’s shirt to touch him, surrendering. Taeil’s tongue is hot against his, lapping at his teeth, running it across the grooves. He relaxes into Youngho’s touch, satisfied at his win. Youngho moans when he ruts up again, urging him for more.

Thinking on his feet, Youngho palms him through his underwear, already stained wet from precome. Taeil shivers, stuttering his efforts in sucking Youngho’s tongue. Youngho strokes him, short and quick until Taeil’s panting into his mouth, eyes squeezed shut in concentrated pleasure. He moans freely, bucking shamelessly into Youngho’s hand.

“More, _baby_ ,” Taeil begs, tone pitched high into a whine, hands gripping at Youngho’s shoulders. He bites on Youngho’s lip when he doesn’t seem to slow his strokes.

He wasn’t going to fuck Taeil, not when his back is bruised up. Surely, he was sore, yet not mentioning it, not complaining. With a grunt, he suggests, “Let me suck you off?”

It’s middle ground; Youngho had no problem doing so (in fact, he quite liked it) and Taeil would be sated. Importantly so, no injuries would be irritated. Taeil considered it for a moment, slowing his hips to nod eagerly. Youngho moves quick, before Taeil can change his mind, lifting and carrying him easily into their bedroom. With the door still left open wide, Youngho lets him down gently, hovering over Taeil and kissing him slow. Taeil’s legs are still around his waist, reluctant to let him move so much as an inch further. Focused, Youngho quickly tugs at Taeil’s boxers, _hurry hurry hurry_ , startling when Taeil pushes his hand away,

“Stop, stop.” Youngho pauses immediately, looking up, puzzled.

“Wha – ”

“You’re rushing,” Taeil turns his head away, ears beet red.

Youngho cringes, guilty. He just wanted Taeil to rest, “I –”

“We don’t have to do anything,” Taeil interjects, moving to close his legs, but Youngho holds on to his knee gently, concern doubling. “It’s okay.”

“I thought – ”

“Not if you don’t want to,” Taeil answers before the question is served. Youngho leans back onto the pillows, scooting down to press his lips to Taeil’s.

“I want _you_ ,” Youngho says clearly, brushing Taeil’s hair out of his eyes. “But I want you to get some rest too.”

Taeil glowers, “I said I’m fine, Youngho.”

He retorts, “You fell from a _tree_ , Taeil.”

“ _O –_ kay,” Taeil’s voice is clipped, and he rolls his eyes. “Forget it then,” he swats Youngho’s hand away agitatedly, trying to swing his legs off the bed.

“Hey.” Youngho frowns, catching him by the shoulder, hooking his legs onto Taeil’s. “Don’t be like that. I just care about you.”

Taeil’s eyes are downcast, corners of his lips pulled into a grimace. Youngho is still, leaving the ball in Taeil’s court, letting him decide if he wants more, or if he wants time alone. It takes a moment, but he climbs back into bed, wriggling closer to Youngho, until he’s comfortably snuggled in his chest. Slowly, he slides his arms around Youngho’s waist, hugging him tight.

“I know,” Taeil kisses Youngho’s collarbone. “I’m sorry.”

Youngho kisses the top of Taeil’s head, “Don’t be sorry.” Then, “I love you.”

Taeil squirms, but it’s sincere, “I love you too.”

“I just had a bad day.” Youngho strains to hear Taeil’s mumblings. “My class watched me fall from a tree trying to save a cat that apparently didn’t need saving.”

Youngho doesn’t laugh, not when Taeil’s so bummed out. “They’ll forget about it when they grow up,” he says reassuringly, combing his fingers through Taeil’s hair. “Forget about preschool, I can’t even remember what I had for dinner last week.”

Taeil laughs at that, weakly, but it’s still a laugh. A comforting silence passes between them, lying together, breaths synchronized. When he thinks Taeil’s fallen asleep, Youngho tries to shift away. Taeil looks up at him with half-lidded eyes, and it takes Youngho less than a fraction of a second to lean down and kiss him slow. It’s Youngho’s licking Taeil’s lower lip, seeking permission, _Do you want more?_ Taeil parts his lips, _Yes_. He moves to loom over Taeil, cradling the back of his neck to kiss him deeper. Taeil runs his hands up Youngho’s sides, stopping at his nape to play with the short hairs there.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Youngho whispers. Taeil nods, leading Youngho to his neck. Youngho obliges, licking a long stripe up, enjoying the way Taeil shivers from pleasure.

“ _Baby_ ,” Taeil moans, circling his legs around Youngho. Youngho hums, heat back in his gut. Taeil’s clothed dick presses against his torso, growing hotter, bigger, with every kiss and suck. “No marks,” Taeil sighs, pressing his fingers into Youngho, a reminder.

“Use a scarf,” Youngho sucks hard, high up on Taeil's neck, sure to leave at least a spot of pink. Taeil pinches him, but his breath catches, whimpering when Youngho bites down, flicking his tongue over it to soothe the sting. He bucks up against Youngho’s torso, hips jerking when Youngho works on a new patch on the other side of Taeil’s throat.

“It’s good, _baby_ ,” Taeil cries, holding Youngho in place, shuddering uncontrollably as he sucks on the sensitive skin. Spurred, Youngho moans, kissing harder, sucking harder. “ _Baby, baby_ , oh, you – ,” Taeil gasps as Youngho pushes against him, helping with the friction against his dick.

Youngho’s crotch is lined up to Taeil’s ass, and he grinds hard, hand moving to touch Taeil under his boxers. It’s already wet with precome, but Youngho still pulls back to spit in his hand. Taeil whimpers, watching through half-opened eyes. He rubs his hand around the head of Taeil’s dick, pressing his thumb into the slit, speeding up only when Taeil bucks into his hand impatiently.

It’s hot, the sound of Youngho sucking on Taeil’s neck, wet and sloppy, of Youngho stroking Taeil, hard and heavy, of Taeil’s laboured breathing, deep and ragged, whining softly on the inhales. It quickens when Youngho squeezes him, a pleasurable pressure, signalling that he’s close. Just when Taeil’s on a particularly high whine, Youngho lets go completely, hands, lips, crotch off. Taeil blinks up at him, utterly dumbfounded, and Youngho kisses at the drool on his chin.

“What – ”

Untangling Taeil from under him, Youngho scoots down, pulling Taeil’s boxers down with his teeth until his cock springs free. Youngho helps to pull the boxers to Taeil’s ankles, and he kicks it away. Taeil watches closely, breathing shallow. His dick is completely hard, wet and right in front of Youngho’s lips. Youngho flattens his tongue, licking it like a popsicle. Taeil digs his heels into the bed, moaning immediately at the contact. Youngho hooks his arms under Taeil’s knees to hold him by the hips, taking Taeil completely, until the tip of his cock hits the back of Youngho’s throat.

“ _Baby,_ ” Taeil wrings his hands in front of him, balled into fists, knuckles turning white. He tries to jerk into Youngho’s mouth, but the taller holds him down, still accommodating, careful with his teeth. Taeil waits patiently, hooking his legs around Youngho’s shoulders in a silent question.

Youngho hollows his cheeks, sucking _hard_ – Taeil yelps, clamping his legs tight around Youngho’s arms, thrusting up into his mouth. Youngho takes it with experience, latching his lips to the base of Taeil’s dick, letting Taeil move however he wanted for a moment, before bobbing his head to meet Taeil’s urgent thrusts. Taeil exhales sharply, fingers finding Youngho’s hair, gripping hard.

“I’m – _baby_ , I – ” Taeil hips stutter, and Youngho pushes Taeil’s hips up into his mouth, inhaling him without much prelude. Taeil pats his cheek with a trembling hand, barely able to form words. Youngho answers with a flick of the tongue to the slit of Taeil’s dick. His jaw is starting to ache but he knows Taeil’s close. He licks, and sucks, and –

Taeil comes, relying completely on Youngho’s grip on his hips to hold him up. He writhes, whining loudly, and Youngho swallows it all, milking him through the aftershocks, shivering under his lips. Taeil pats at his cheek again once completely satisfied, guiding Youngho off his dick. Youngho swallows again for good measure before letting Taeil pull him up, seeking a kiss. Taeil wraps his tongue around Youngho’s, languid, then moving to lap up the saliva on the corners of Youngho’s lips. Youngho tilts away when Taeil sits up, trying to help him jerk off.

“L – let me help,” Taeil pants, reaching for him again, but Youngho catches him in another kiss, stroking himself hard and quick. He was already reaching his limits, beyond turned on from sucking Taeil off,

“Kiss me,” he huffs, and Taeil accedes, grabbing him by the cheeks with both hands to kiss him hard, fucking Youngho’s mouth with his tongue.

Youngho comes merely after several quick strokes, catching the lot of load in his hands, trying his best not to dirty their sheets. Taeil kisses him slow, and they kiss for what seems like hours, until he tires, slouching away.

“I’m going to clean up,” Youngho mumbles, pressing his lips to Taeil’s neck, clean hand gently nudging his boyfriend back down onto the pillows. Taeil nods, already pulling under the covers to climb under it, looking exhausted.

Youngho pecks him on the lips before inching off the bed. When his feet hits the ground, he hears Taeil mutter, “Come back quick, _baby_.”

“You’re a big flirt, Moon Taeil,” Youngho shakes his head, smiling to himself.

Taeil snuggles under the blanket, pulling it to his chin. He grins boyishly, “Only for you, baby.”

        

(After Youngho’s done brushing his teeth and cleaning himself up, he tosses the dirty underwear into their laundry hamper, picking out a new pair (pineapple prints), and another (navy blue) for Taeil to wear in the morning. He tiptoes back into their room quietly to find Taeil seemingly asleep. Leaving the fresh pair of boxers for him on the bedside table, he picks up the discarded one from the ground to leave in the laundry hamper as well.

The cotton bud outside is on the floor, and Youngho sighs quietly, cleaning it up obediently. He locks the front door and closes the windows dutifully. Turning out the lights, Youngho returns to the room with the first aid kit in hand. He prepares another cotton bud with ointment, and, after he’s sure Taeil’s asleep, Youngho pulls the cover gently from Taeil’s hands, lifting him carefully, sliding into bed behind his boyfriend. He slots Taeil between his legs, and Taeil groans in his sleep, but he adjusts easily, leaning against Youngho’s chest.

“Sorry,” Youngho mumbles into the dark, gingerly pulling Taeil’s arms from the covers. With an unnecessarily extra ordinate amount of concentration, he coats the (now) light pink marks with antiseptic. Even in his sleep, Taeil twitches at the sting, and Youngho kisses the top of his head, apologetic for having to inflict pain (even if it _is_ for his own good).

He leaves the cotton bud by the bedside table to get rid of tomorrow, flipping the lights off, enveloping them in darkness. Pulling the covers over them both, Youngho adjusts Taeil’s arms to let the ointment air, hugging him to sleep, though he’s sure Taeil will end up on the other side of their bed in the morning.)

 

(Taeil’s phone rings sometime mid-slumber, and it wakes Youngho up. It’s Taeyong.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (read about taeyong's call in '[loopholes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12738549)'!)
> 
> kudos + comments / criticisms are greatly appreciated ♡ feedback warmly welcomed! [twitter](https://twitter.com/jenhyungs) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/jenhyung) | [more notes](https://jenhyung.tumblr.com)


	4. the one where doyoung isn't sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> doyoung / taeyong, fluff, 1k+  
> (takes place during their third year together)
> 
>  **asode time period** : year 7, april

Doyoung is not sick.

His head is pounding, his nose is running, his throat is hurting, and his face feels like it’s clogged up in every vein possible, but he is definitely not sick. He can’t be sick when there are three projects he’s working on, all of which have late nights written down as a basic requirement. One of them being Youngho and Taeil’s wedding; the couple had sought the film company Doyoung worked at, _84films_ , to have their entire reception and ceremony filmed. He wasn’t scheduled to work the event, of course, since he was one of Youngho’s groomsmen, but he still volunteered to help on the project. Though it was still several months away, Doyoung’s innate desire to have everything fine-tuned and perfect for his best friend’s wedding was starting to collide with his other projects.

The apartment is dark, sans the little rabbit shaped nightlight Taeyong had bought months ago when Doyoung started work at _84films_. The job brought along many late nights, and Taeyong tried his best to stay up until Doyoung returned from events and video shoots. Coming home after a long day of work to find his boyfriend asleep in an uncomfortable position made Doyoung extremely guilty, no matter how often Taeyong insisted it was something he _wanted_ to do. As compromise, the nightlight was purchased and would be left in the living room, so that the apartment wouldn’t be pitch black when Doyoung came home, and Taeyong would be able to sleep comfortably in their bed while waiting.

Trying his best not to ram into anything without turning the lights on, Doyoung hunts for a strip of Tylenol in the fridge, downing two with a handful of tap water. Leaving his bag and cameras in their work room (previously Doyoung’s room), he slinks into the bathroom for a quick shower. Usually, if he’d stayed in the office editing all day, he wouldn’t run the shower so as to not wake Taeyong, but it was field day today, filming a five-year-old’s birthday bash; Taeyong would kill him if he went to bed still smelling like grass and mud and marshmallows and vomit (one of the kids had too much sugar). The cold water feels like nirvana on his hot skin, and he wants to stand under it for the next two hours, but the pounding in his head and the fact that Taeyong is waiting for him in bed makes him shut the water off.

In a pair of boxers, Doyoung slips into their room quietly, satisfied to see Taeyong under the bunched-up covers, sleeping soundly. Gingerly, he gets in bed, lying flat on his back. Taeyong doesn’t stir, hugging the blankets in his arms, and Doyoung sighs. Last he checked, it was already three in the morning. He couldn’t call in sick either; he had to go down to the office tomorrow to vet a milk commercial the company helped to film a couple of weeks ago, before his co-worker, Seungkwan, was going to send it to their client. Shutting his eyes tight, Doyoung wills all the thoughts in his mind away, trying to rid the massive headache. He takes deep breaths through his nose, but the pounding doesn’t subside.

It’s uncomfortable, and it makes him want to squirm.

“You’re back.”

It’s a sleepy mumble, and Doyoung doesn’t turn his head to look (it's hurting too much), but he knows Taeyong is smiling at him.

“Yeah,” he tries not to groan. He didn’t want to worry Taeyong, who, too, had work piled up at the labs after receiving a huge grant for his research. He was doing on hair cell regeneration; it took Doyoung a long time before he understood what Taeyong did at work. The only difference was that Taeyong got a flu shot two weeks ago, while Doyoung didn’t. Both of them had a distinct distaste for needles (read: they were afraid), but Taeyong’s hatred of being sick trumped his fear of it, motivating him to get the shot. Doyung, on the other hand, chose to risk getting the flu (which he did).

Taeyong’s hand shoots out from under the blanket to touch his forehead, “You’re sick, aren’t you?”

Doyoung’s heart jumps at the fact that Taeyong could _tell_ from within a minute of being together, “No, I’m not sick.”

“I’m going to get you some water,” Taeyong moves to get out of bed, but Doyoung grabs his elbow,

“I already had some,” he winces when the headache worsens. “I took some painkillers too, I’m fine.”

Doyoung doesn’t need to see Taeyong to know that he’s narrowing his eyes, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he sighs, letting go of Taeyong when he lies back into bed. “Just go back to sleep.”

Taeyong pulls the covers around himself, holding it out, a silent question. Doyoung shakes his head (he regrets it because everything hurts), “It’s okay, I’m feeling hot.”

Tucking himself tight, Taeyong bites his lip worriedly, “If it gets too much, we can always go to that clinic two streets down, okay? It’s open all night.”

Doyoung shuts his eyes again, “Okay.”

“Do you want me to hug you?”

Any other day, Doyoung would’ve laughed at how childlike it sounded, and then willingly accepted the offer. Today, however, though Doyoung is _not_ sick, he wouldn’t want to risk getting Taeyong infected either. Also, the headache made his body sensitive, itching even when in contact with their cotton sheets.

Middle-ground, “Hold my hand?”

Taeyong doesn’t laugh at his request, but his left hand sneaks from under the blanket to lace his fingers with Doyoung’s right, cool and comfortable. He holds onto Doyoung loosely, thumb tracing concentric circles onto the back of Doyoung’s hand.

Focused on the pattern, Doyoung calms his thoughts to get a blank canvas, then fully fixating on Taeyong’s hand in his. He wonders how crazy it was that a small action from Taeyong could ease him so quickly, even his breathing out so quickly, subside the headache so quickly. Doyoung doesn’t know how many minutes have passed, but Taeyong doesn’t stop, still lying awake with him. The headache dulls to a less intense throbbing after what feels like hours, and Doyoung turns his head to find Taeyong’s face angled up towards him, but his eyes are closed.

Sensing Doyoung’s stare, he cracks them open slowly, watchful, “Better?”

Doyoung manages a small smile, “Yeah.”

Taeyong squeezes his hand twice, “Good. I was getting worried. You were looking so pale.”

“I’m fine,” Doyoung inches down so that they’re faces are levelled. Taeyong inches up so that he’s resting a little higher. Doyoung was always taller while standing, so Taeyong liked to take advantage whenever they were lying down. “Though, I’d take that hug now, if the offer still stands.”

Taeyong laughs softly, shedding the blanket to open his arms to Doyoung instead, “The offer always stands.”

Scooting closer, Doyoung lifts his head to let Taeyong slide an arm under his neck, pressing his nose into Taeyong’s chest. Taeyong tangles their legs together, resting his other arm on Doyoung’s shoulder. Sighing contentedly, Doyoung tucks his hands between them,

“What if you get sick?”

Taeyong runs his fingers through Doyoung’s hair. When he laughs, Doyoung feels it in his own chest, “I’ll have to get a refund from that doctor since I got that flu shot.”

Doyoung presses a kiss to the edge of Taeyong’s clavicle, chaste, “Those don’t always work, you know.”

Taeyong presses a kiss to the top of Doyoung’s head, sweet, “I know. Holding you is worth your grimy germs.”

Doyoung snuggles closer, sniffling, “I love you.”

Taeyong goes back to carding his fingers through Doyoung’s hair, “I love you too.”

 

(“You should get a flu shot next time too,” Taeyong says the next morning over breakfast, the only meal of the day they’ve assigned to make an effort to have with one another. Late nights were one thing, but waking up early in the morning to have breakfast with Taeyong before he went off to the labs were not out of Doyoung’s control.

“I don’t need a flu shot,” Doyoung says with a sip of orange juice. The headache’s fully gone now, and his nose wasn’t running as much. “Why would I need one when you can just hug me to recovery?”

The headache threatens to come back when he ducks to avoid the loaf of bread Taeyong aims at his face.)

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos + comments / criticisms are greatly appreciated ♡ feedback warmly welcomed! [twitter](https://twitter.com/jenhyungs) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/jenhyung) | [more notes](https://jenhyung.tumblr.com)


	5. the one with the decorations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> taeil / youngho, fluff, 2k+ (kissing)  
> (takes place during their first year together)
> 
>  **asode time period** : year 1, december

Taeil’s always liked Christmas. He wasn’t particularly religious, but the jingle of carols and heavenly smell of cinnamon flavoured baked pastries always made him joyous. Gift-giving was fun too; he enjoyed perusing departmental stores and little trinket shops, taking the time to find the perfect gifts for his family and close friends. Gift wrapping was a chore, but it’s a warm and fuzzy feeling to be surrounded by wrapping paper and clear tape, listening to festive carols quietly, thinking of what to write on handfuls of Christmas cards. Apart from his annual family gatherings, Christmas for Taeil was usually spent as a peaceful affair, huddled up in his bed, watching whatever comedy special was available on Netflix.

It’s during his first Christmas with Youngho, as a couple, that Taeil realised how different things were going to be.

Case in point, Youngho was leaps and bounds more excited than Taeil was about Christmas. Forget about Halloween, Taeil’s been listening to Youngho hum _that_ Mariah Carey song under his breath since September. Even while working on assignments, cooking up meals, Taeil thinks Youngho might’ve memorised the lyric book for Michael Bublé’s Christmas album from cover to cover. It might’ve been something to do with the fact that Youngho’s family was miles away, making his boyfriend of nine months extremely affectionate and clingy as the days to December drew close. Not that Taeil minded at all, he so very much enjoyed Youngho’s company and it was only natural of him to ask if they could spend their first Christmas together, just mere two weekends from the big day,

“ – around the apartment! Glitter! Everywhere!” Youngho grumbles one evening.

They’re situated comfortably in Taeil’s super twin bed, pushed up against one of the walls in the small studio that is Taeil’s apartment. Youngho’s head is cosy in Taeil’s lap, going on a tirade about the current situation back at his own apartment that he shared with his high school best friend, Doyoung.

“Hmm?” Taeil cards his fingers through Youngho’s black hair, smooth and _fluffy_ , from all the conditioner he often slathered his hair in. He was barely paying attention to Youngho’s never-ending complaints, far too distracted by his boyfriend’s button nose and the curve of his lips. If anything, Taeil thinks he likes Youngho’s lips most, gently ticked upwards on the sides, as if he was perpetually smiling.

“Doyoung’s _new_ girlfriend,” Youngho laments, but he keens into Taeil’s touch, burying his nose further into Taeil’s torso, inhaling deeply. “She keeps bringing home boxes and boxes and _boxes_ of Christmas decorations! Our place looks like a Target catalogue, Taeil, you won’t believe it.”

“Don’t you love Christmas?” Taeil asks, gently tracing over Youngho’s hairline, his brows, his eyelids.

“I do,” Youngho sniffs, toying with the hem of Taeil’s cotton shirt. “She’s ruining it with her stupid rituals and insane gift-giving regulations, and Doyoung’s too crazy about her to say anything about it. Who _does_ that, Taeil?”

Taeil didn’t really know Doyoung, nor his girlfriend, so he doesn’t say anything, focusing instead on a tiny mole on the underside of Youngho’s jaw.

“Both of them look like rabbits, hopping around the apartment, dragging Christmas lights with them wherever they go,” Youngho groans, frustrated. “Doesn’t help that neither of them like to pick up after themselves! It makes going home such a _chore_.”

Taeil seizes the chance, speaking up, “Why don’t you spend Christmas with me?”

Youngho peeks up, nose still digging into Taeil’s stomach, “Aren’t we already spending Christmas together?”

“I mean,” Taeil shifts, and Youngho rolls away with a reluctant groan, resting his weight on his elbow by Taeil’s thighs. “For the whole weekend. Here, with me.”

Youngho’s eyes light up immediately, and it never fails to make Taeil’s heart thunder, “Like a sleepover?”

“Yeah,” Taeil leans down to press his lips to Youngho’s. “I don’t have a tree or anything, but – ”

“You don’t have a tree?” Youngho balks, rushing to sit up. “How could you not have a tree!”

“I don’t really have any space in here, if you couldn’t tell,” Taeil says flatly, looking pointedly at his studio, already pushing his limits with a desk table by the kitchen counter (it was a ledge with a stove and an oven, barely a counter). “Where would I put giant tree, Youngho, I can barely fit _you_ in here.”

“I can’t believe I’m dating a boy who doesn’t put up a Christmas tree!” Youngho throws his hands in the air dramatically, but he slumps back onto Taeil’s lap, resuming his previous position.

Taeil flicks him on the shoulder, “Would you rather date someone else?”

“No,” Youngho says immediately, leaning up to kiss Taeil, slow. Taeil returns the kiss, letting Youngho’s tongue run along the grooves of his teeth for a moment, a little breathless when Youngho pulls away, “There isn’t anyone in the world I’d rather be with.”

Taeil rolls his eyes, but he kisses Youngho again, “You’re Mayor Cheesy.”

“I’d gladly accept that title,” Youngho sighs contentedly, snugging up to Taeil. “‘S’long as you’re there with me.”

 

x

 

Despite Taeil’s objections regarding over-the-top Christmas decorations, he relents several nights after their initial conversation. Youngho’d barrelled through Taeil’s front door, grocery bags on each arm, with a royal announcement that he was going to prepare them both an amazing dinner (slow beef stew with a side of sausages). Taeil didn’t mind; Youngho’s taken a liking to cook for them both, and he wasn’t about to stop Youngho from searching up recipes to try out every now and then.

It’s only a minute after Taeil’d turned off the tap (he was designated clean up duty since Youngho slogged over the stove),

“Let’s go to Target,” Youngho already has his black jacket on, and Taeil’s green parka in his hands.

“Now?” Taeil picks his phone up to check the time, _11:28PM_. It’s been a long day filled with never-ending classes and group project meetings. He was intending on getting into bed, putting on an old movie, and cuddling until he fell asleep in Youngho’s arms. Going out in the cold winter night for whatever Youngho was planning was not one of his intentions.

“Yes, now,” Youngho insists, helping Taeil into his jacket, not letting his boyfriend a chance to refuse. “I want to get some things.”

“Can’t we get them tomorrow?” Taeil blinks, too stunned at Youngho’s eagerness to stop Youngho from zipping him up, slapping a beanie over Taeil’s head and draping a thick scarf around Taeil’s neck.

“No,” Youngho grins, cupping Taeil’s cheeks to give him a kiss. “We’ve to go tonight! There’s a sale today!”

“A sale?” Taeil repeats, grabbing his wallet off his desk before he lets Youngho huddle him out the door, feet barely in his sneakers. It locks with a _click!_ and Youngho wraps an arm around Taeil’s waist, hugging him close. Taeil can _feel_ the energy thrumming in Youngho, “Target has sales every week, Youngho.”

“I know,” he sniffs, pushing on the elevator button. “But they have thirty percent off on trees this week so – ”

“Trees?” Taeil glares up at Youngho. “ _Christmas_ trees? Youngho, I thought we – ”

“You’ll love it, I promise!” Youngho whines, very clearly exuding his child-like quality. “Shopping for the tree and the decorations are the _best_ part, babe, please?”

The lift doors open, and Taeil groans when his legs step into the small confinement, already caving into Youngho’s wishes. Enthusiastic that he’s gotten Taeil into the lift, Youngho jams the button on the panel, eager to have it close, lest Taeil makes a break for it back to the apartment.

When they step out into the night of wintry air and cloudless skies, Taeil instinctively crams himself into Youngho’s warmth.

“Do you have any decorations at home?” Youngho asks, leading them down the street, draping his arm over Taeil’s shoulder so they walked in step.

Taeil thinks about the measly wreath of plastic evergreens and its unsightly red bow, “Not really. I don’t decorate since it’s just me at home.”

“I’ll be there too this year,” Youngho grins, giving Taeil’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “And, I was hoping you’d say that.”

“That I don’t have decorations?” Taeil is not oblivious to Youngho’s scheme.

“Yeah,” he nods, bouncing on his toes excitedly. “We can buy a whole _new_ set of decorations then!”

 

A whole new set of decorations include: five sets of six red, gold and white baubles, four giant ribbons to be tied on, three rounds of silver tinsel and fairy lights, two collections of assorted plush Santa Clauses, reindeers, polar bears and candy cane ornaments, and a fake Christmas tree towering at five-foot-eight.

Youngho is busy running up and down the aisles, while Taeil trails behind with the red cart, watching his six-foot boyfriend get excited over Star Wars themed ornaments and contemplating if he should get them or the Harry Potter ones. Taeil browses the aisles as he listens to Youngho’s one-sided conversation with himself, looking out for potential gifts as well. He’d already gotten something for Taeyong, his best friend, since the boy was easy to shop for (woollen socks because he was always cold, and four bags of that instant coffee he was addicted to).

When Youngho is done clearing out the shelves, making sure they've enough to transform Taeil's apartment to seem like it was decorated by a team of interior designers from Target, they find themselves with too many things and only two pairs of arms. Taeil is clueless as to how they managed to lug everything back to the apartment (the tree still in its box on Youngho’s back; they made it into a makeshift backpack with some help from the girl at the register), but it’s past midnight when he’s finally heaving to rest everything on his bed. Youngho follows suit, sighing as he tries to get the box off his back.

“Please tell me we’re building this in the morning,” Taeil begs, moving over to help Youngho before he pulled a muscle.

After Youngho moves the box out of the way, leaning it against the wall, he brings his arms over his head, groaning loudly. Taeil shifts all of their shopping bags to rest by the wall as well, letting Youngho pull him into a hug, “Is this an invitation for me to stay over?”

“Yes,” Taeil kisses him on the lips, untangling himself in the next second to get out of his coat. “Only because I’m too tired to kick you out.”

“Ha,” Youngho says blandly, shedding his coat and collecting Taeil’s to have them hung up on the hooks behind the door. “Funny.”

Taeil makes a face, but Youngho still slinks after him into the bathroom. It’s comfortable, getting ready for bed together. Youngho’s own toothbrush is there on the sink next to Taeil’s, and they battle over who gets to rinse up first before Youngho caves, sitting on the toilet seat to let Taeil go first.

They’re in bed in the next five minutes, and the lights are out in the sixth. While Taeil was never one to cuddle (he kicked around in his sleep), Youngho was always complaining about getting cold in the middle of the night, no matter how many layers of blankets they pile on him. Already on the verge of passing out, Taeil backs up to press against to Youngho’s chest, fumbling to pull the blanket over them.

“Goodnight,” Taeil sighs when he’s finally nestled comfortably, one of Youngho’s arms under his neck, the other around his waist. He waits until Youngho is done shifting around, tangling their legs together, and he feels Youngho’s cheek resting on his crown.  

“Taeil?” Youngho murmurs softly into his hair. Taeil makes a hum rising in intonation, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Taeil manages a quiet laugh, Youngho’s presence easily lulling him to sleep.

He’s about to zonk out when Youngho groans,

“ _What_?” Taeil grumbles into the pillow.

“I forget to get a mistletoe,” he can _hear_ the pout in Youngho’s voice. With all the energy he has left, Taeil twists around to kiss Youngho, long and lazy. He indulges Youngho by slipping his tongue in, sucking on Youngho's until Youngho's sighing, satisfied.

“We don’t need a mistletoe to kiss, Youngho,” Taeil breathes when they part, turning back around and snuggling his head into the cool pillow. “Now, goodnight.”

“Taeil?”

“I’m _really_ going to kick you out if you don’t let me – ”

“Can we go back tomorrow?” Youngho squeezes him tight.

Defeated, “Yes, we can do whatever you want. Tomorrow.”

“I love you,” Youngho hovers over to kiss him again.

Taeil returns the kiss, “I love you too.”

  

(Morning comes far quicker than Taeil would like, and Youngho is no longer by his side, but up and parading in his cotton shirt and boxers. Blinking the sleep away, Taeil notes that Youngho’s already got the Christmas tree up, but without the decorations.

“I was waiting for you,” Youngho grins, climbing back into bed to give Taeil a kiss on the cheek. Taeil grunts in response, tugging the blanket over his head when Youngho moves away, wishing with all his might that he didn’t have to get up on a Saturday morning to decorate a tree. Youngho ducks under the covers to pepper Taeil’s cheeks with more, trying to wake his boyfriend up. When Taeil makes no indication of moving, Youngho lies back down,

“Don’t you think the tree looks a little short? I thought it’d be a little bigger.”

Taeil peeks from under the comforter, realising the tree was just about as tall as he was, “It's not the tree's fault you're so freakishly tall, Youngho.”

“Good morning to you too,” Youngho says, brushing Taeil’s hair from his eyes, grinning madly now that Taeil’s starting to wake up.

Even with the long day ahead of more Christmas shopping and tree decorating festivities, Taeil smiles at the thought of spending it with Youngho. He’s always liked Christmas, but he thinks he might like it even more with Youngho around.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos + comments / criticisms are greatly appreciated ♡ feedback warmly welcomed! [twitter](https://twitter.com/jenhyungs) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/jenhyung) | [more notes](https://jenhyung.tumblr.com)


	6. the one where it's pink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> taeyong-centric, pwp, 1k+ (masturbation)  
> (takes place three months before they get together)
> 
>  **asode time period** : year 4, june

“So? What did you think about Sehun?”

Taeyong stabs his lunch with a fork, “Not great.”

Taeil is quiet, and then, “Still nothing?”

Groaning, Taeyong pushes his meal away to slump against the table, thoroughly deflated. Honestly, this is all Youngho’s fault. If he didn’t have that joint birthday party, then Taeyong wouldn’t have _had_ to meet Kim Doyoung, and everything would be absolutely perfect. Never mind developing the biggest crush of his life on his new flatmate, Taeyong can’t seem to _get it on_ during dates, which were arranged with the intention of getting Doyoung _off_ his mind. Yet, he was constantly plagued with thoughts of Doyoung, Doyoung, _Doyoung._ His hands, his chest, his _smile_.

Five months since he’s met the boy, and slightly over a month since Doyoung’s moved in to his place (another of Youngho’s doings). Nothing else got Taeyong going, not even muscled arms and breathy moans. (Unless they were Doyoung’s muscled arms and breathy moans.) It was getting worse with each passing day, and it was _definitely_ driving Taeyong crazy.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to talk to Youngho?” Taeil offers yet again, sighing softly.

Taeyong bolts upright so fast, the table shakes, “No way!” He folds his arms across his chest, “It’s already embarrassing enough to have had him introduce Sehun who, by the way, is perfectly attractive. Tell him that I have a dumb _crush_ on his best friend? No, no, no.”

Taeil leans back in his seat, eyebrows raised, “I thought you’d say that.” He picks his backpack off the ground, easily retrieving a rectangular box, wrapped in ‘Happy Birthday!’ paper, a premade ribbon slapped on the top. “An early birthday gift.”

Taeyong takes it with two hands, eyes lighting up at the sight of his name written in near cursive. His birthday wasn’t until a week or so, making the gift a little more of a surprise. He examines the neatly folded corners and sellotape, crooning, “Thank you!”

Clearing his throat, Taeil picks up his fork again, eyes back on his meal. His ears are blushing red, “I’d open that at home if I were you.”

Taeyong blinks twice, but he thinks nothing of it, carefully sliding the box into his backpack, happy at the thought of receiving a present so ahead of his birthday.

 

x

 

It’s a vibrator.

Also, it’s hot _pink_.

Taeyong shoves it under his covers the moment he tears the wrapper away, the image of it printed clearly on the black box.

A card falls out in his haste to get it out of sight,

 

_Happy Birthday!_

_Since you’ve been having a tough time doing you-know-what because of you-know-who, and you were getting stressed out, I thought this might help… It was recommended by the store clerk, so I hope it works I guess._

_Who you think of when you use it is completely none of my business._

_Love, Taeil_

 

Even in written form, Taeil is the most awkward person on the planet.

Taeyong is frozen on his bed. His heartbeat is loud in his ears, in his throat.

If he’s being completely honest, the thought of jacking off to Doyoung _has_ crossed his mind, but he’s never gone ahead and done it… Not even when Doyoung’s out of the apartment on late night assignments or hanging out with his vocal club friends or out on dates with other people who weren’t Taeyong, other girls who absolutely were _not_ Taeyong.

It’s resulted in _four_ months of barren times. He couldn’t even get himself off without his thoughts threatening to drift towards the idea of Doyoung holding him close, kissing him tender.

Glancing around his room, he slowly pulls the gift out from under the covers. He studies it closely, reading the instructions on the back, taking his time to go through the warnings and miscellaneous notes. It’s in hopes of prolonging the step of actually opening the gift, and he winces when he does, because his cheeks are positively _burning_ at the sight of the scandalous pink.

“This is fine, this is _fine_ ,” he mutters to himself. “I don’t have to use it if I don’t want to.”

He argues; the apartment is empty. Doyoung’s working as a temp in a music store as a summer job, earning ten dollars an hour to stay late nights, and Taeyong has nothing else to do. _No, he’s your best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend._ Just thinking about it gave him a headache. _He’s straight!_

Taeyong bites hip lip, his dick twitching in interest when he touches the tip of the toy. It’s silicon, soft and smooth and,

_But what if he wasn’t?_

_Bad, bad, bad!_ Taeyong shuts the lid, clamping his mouth shut to steady his breathing. He sits, soaking in all of his pathetic glory. His mind is blank again, then,

_Would he touch me?_

The thought of Doyoung’s hands on him is enough to make him drool. It’s been too long since he’s had any kind of release, been too long since he’s let himself indulge in thinking about Doyoung in any more than just a friend, a flatmate.

Gingerly, he opens the box again. Sucking in a deep breath, he takes the toy in his hand. It’s long and slender, curved at the tip. There are two buttons on the bottom he doesn’t dare push. Holding it lightly, he brushes his thumb over it. His eyes close on reflex.

The image of Doyoung before him, panting needily into his shoulder is new and hot and it _works._ Taeyong fondles with it, conjuring more; Doyoung kissing his neck, his lips, hands on his shoulders, begging for more, whispering _touch me, please?_

“Fuck,” Taeyong’s eyes fly open. “ _Fuck_ , okay.”

Already half hard, he runs to the bathroom to wash the toy, sprinting back into his room before he can change his mind. Locking the door, he shrugs his jeans and briefs off impatiently, flipping the lights to drown the room in darkness. He knocks into a jumble of things in his haste to get back onto his bed, blindly sliding under the covers. Shoving a pillow between his legs, he rests his hardening dick on it, lying on his left.

He’s never had any issue with using just his hands. A toy was new territory, but so was thinking about Doyoung.

Going on gut feel, Taeyong pushes the button once, and it kickstarts, thrumming silently in his palm. He holds the toy in his right hand, left hand gripping at the pillow under his head. Nervous, he licks his lips, closing his eyes. He presses the toy to his dick, moaning, immediately shivering at the low vibrations, the shudders it sends down his legs and around his hips.

The scene is back in an instant. Doyoung on his knees, hands greedy on Taeyong’s body, sweaty, breathing heavily through his nose. His eyes are dark, pupils blown, staring right into Taeyong, wanton, brazenfaced at his neediness. The Doyoung in his mind is silent, a pity, but at least he’s _here_. He opens his mouth to exhale loudly, tilting his head back, narrowing his eyes to stare down at Taeyong. A challenge.

It makes Taeyong whimper, jerking against the vibrator.

Doyoung looks interested in that, sitting back up on his heels. Taeyong pushes the button on the toy again, and the thrumming intensifies. He moans loudly, shocked at the sudden jump, burying his face into the pillow to muffle himself.

 _I want you to touch me._ Taeyong hooks his ankles together, toes curling when Doyoung leans close, and his breath, _oh_ , the power of imagination, fans across his chest. Taeyong trembles, hold on the pillow loosening, shakily moving down his chest. _Touch me, touch me, touch me._ He takes a nipple between his fingers, jolting, breathing quickening when Doyoung smirks down at him. His heart pounds against his hand, and his dick throbs, precome leaking steadily. It makes the glide between the toy so much _better._

A bold move; Taeyong jams his thumb on the button, and the toy is kicked up a notch, or maybe five notches. It’s _so_ good with Doyoung completely focused on him, tongue peeking out like he was salivating over the sight of Taeyong jerking off to the mere thought of him sitting right there.

Taeyong thrusts into his hand, sliding against the vibrator, choking back a sob at the friction, at the way Doyoung is swaying so close to his lips, at the way he can practically smell the laundry softener off him, at the way Doyoung’s hands are gripping at the sheets, like he wanted to touch Taeyong too.

_Doyoung, Doyoung, Doyoung. I want you._

His orgasm is frenzied. His thighs shake, hips bucking erratically while he comes, hot and wet, staining his pillow covers. It takes more than a moment for him to get down from the high, refusing to open his eyes to face the reality of it all, masturbating to his flatmate, and it being one of the _best_ orgasms Taeyong’s had in a while. He realises that there are _two_ more levels to the vibrator when he shakily tries to turn it off, and Taeyong kicks the thought of trying it out off his mind.

The shame kicks in faster than expected. He recoils at the thought of the last fifteen minutes. It was quick, but so _good_ , and _so_ embarrassing. Afraid Doyoung might return home earlier tonight, he shuts the thought away, scrambling out of bed to rid his sheets.

He’s made a mess, having jerked off in bed, and there was no way he was going to get things cleaned up without using the washing machine. Grabbing a clean pair of boxers from his drawers, he hastily clumps the bedsheets and pillowcases, flinging the door to his room open to run into –

Doyoung.

Actual Doyoung in a flannel and jeans, with dark eye bags and messy hair.

Taeyong screeches to a halt, the dirty sheets pressed tight to his chest, mouth hanging open as Doyoung’s eyes rake over his current state: shirtless and flushed.

 _Did he hear? Please don’t tell me he heard_.

“Er,” Doyoung blinks. The apartment keys in his hands jingle when he reaches up to scratch at his nape awkwardly. “Sorry, did you have a date? Should I leave – if you’re – ” he gestures vaguely at the sheets in Taeyong’s arms before looking away. “Uh.”

“No!” Taeyong is going to pass out. “No, there is nothing – I mean – ”

Doyoung winces visibly, doing nothing to quell Taeyong’s panicked self. His voice drops to a whisper, “Is he still here? Maybe I should leave – I can just – ”

How is Taeyong going to explain himself? Explain that he’s only washing his sheets because he just jerked off to Doyoung touching him?

“No,” he shakes his head madly. And, before he can stop himself, “My date just left.”

A pregnant pause passes between them.

“Oh, cool,” Doyoung nods mechanically, ducking into his room and slamming the door shut before Taeyong can apologise _again_ for making things awkward between them.  

Taeyong has no time to dwell in his on his mistakes, remembering that he’s left the vibrator on his nightstand, out in the open for the world to see. Rushing to shove the sheets into the washer, Taeyong runs back into his room, cleaning the toy off unhygienically with some Kleenex. Slipping it into the dust bag it came with, Taeyong hides the vibrator into the drawer full of his tech wires (chargers, old game consoles, headphones).

 

(As he tucks himself into bed, Taeyong counts his blessings, relieved that he wasn’t holding onto the toy when he walked out into the hall. He wouldn’t know what to do if Doyoung were to find out about his little secret.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos + comments / criticisms are greatly appreciated ♡ feedback warmly welcomed! [twitter](https://twitter.com/jenhyungs) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/jenhyung) | [more notes](https://jenhyung.tumblr.com)


	7. the one from the magazine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> taeyong / doyoung, fluff, smut, 4k+ (rimming, fucking)  
> (takes place one month after they get their new bed)
> 
>  **asode time period** : year 5, september

It’s barely a minute after Taeyong’s stepped out of the shower when Doyoung pounces. Though, Taeyong’s expected as much, if he’s being candid with himself. Doyoung’s been hanging around him all day, surreptitiously staring at the clock as if he was willing it to go faster, the sun to set quicker. Not that Taeyong was any deterred by Doyoung’s excitement, of course.

Taeyong is seated by the dining table, trying to get back into one of his biology packets when Doyoung’s arms curl around his shoulders. His lips are warm against Taeyong’s cold neck, breath hot. It makes Taeyong smile, even with his mind nagging to tend to readings and useless facts he had to one day remember. He feels Doyoung mouth gentle kisses into the side of his neck, fingers travelling down to his torso.

“I’m studying,” Taeyong hums, but he clicks his pen close when Doyoung whines disapprovingly, grazing his cheek against Taeyong’s. “But I guess you don’t care, huh?”

“Not really,” Doyoung presses his nose into Taeyong’s hair, inhaling deeply. He didn’t seem to care that it was still wet. “You’re already the smartest person I know, you don’t have to study at all.”

Taeyong laughs, tilting to bare his neck to Doyoung, who accepts it readily, latching his lips onto the supple skin under his ears.

“You must not know a lot of smart people then,” Taeyong still has it in him to banter. He closes his eyes as Doyoung starts to run his palms down his shirt, relaxing at the simple touch. Doyoung ignores his jab, sighing contentedly when his hands are finally under Taeyong’s shirt, skin on skin.

“Soft,” Doyoung murmurs, playfully pinching at the skin on Taeyong’s belly. Unlike Doyoung, Taeyong took no interest in going to gym, leaving his tummy squishy even with his thin figure. “Cute,” he sighs, nuzzling into Taeyong, hair tickling the underside of Taeyong’s jaw.

“Are you trying to tell me I need to work out?” Taeyong threads his fingers into Doyoung’s hair, tugging lightly in faux punishment.

“No,” Doyoung answers without hesitation, pressing his thumbs into Taeyong’s skin, as if he was trying to feel as much as he could. “I like it that you’re soft.”

Taeyong scoffs, but he makes no complaints when one of Doyoung’s hand slip from under his shirt, cupping his cheek to bring their lips together in a slow kiss. Doyoung’s lips are firm against his own and Taeyong readily opens up to his boyfriend with a sigh when he requests for it with a swipe of the tongue.

It’s sweet, how Doyoung cradles his face, still hovering from behind, still touching him faintly. Taeyong smiles, and he feels Doyoung smile back.

Unwilling to let Doyoung have all the fun, Taeyong breaks this kiss, getting to his feet. He takes Doyoung’s hand brazenly, leading them into their bedroom, a grin on his lips. Doyoung follows obediently, grabbing Taeyong’s hand with both of his as he did so, holding it to his chest.

The sight of _their_ bed is enough to make Taeyong buzz in pure happiness, spinning on his toes to kiss Doyoung again. It’s been over a month since the purchase of their bed, but the novelty of sleeping on it together has yet to wear off. Taeyong’s lost count of how many times they’ve done it after the initial christening.

Taeyong lets Doyoung kiss him harder now, intentions clear. His hands are back under Taeyong’s shirt, the collar still damp from the shower just minutes before. Doyoung rucks it upwards until he has no choice but to pull away from their kiss, helping Taeyong out of the interruptive article.

“Smell good,” Doyoung breathes Taeyong in shamelessly. Taeyong’s heart swells with pride. It’s no secret between them that Doyoung liked Taeyong’s smell (as Taeyong did with Doyoung), but hearing it still made him all fuzzy inside.

“You too,” Taeyong says to the comment and to the shirt still on Doyoung’s body. It’s shed almost instantly, and Taeyong hurriedly moves to suck a possessive mark just under Doyoung’s clavicle, purple-red against pale skin, suddenly surging with love.

Doyoung looks almost fondly at the mark, and then at Taeyong. Bringing their lips together, he herds Taeyong backwards until he plops unceremoniously onto their bed. Taeyong lifts himself to inch backwards, all the while holding his gaze. He opens up his arms when Doyoung crawls after him, expecting the taller to slip between them. However, he doesn’t, grabbing Taeyong by the shoulders instead, hauling him into his lap. Doyoung manoeuvres them until they’re back in their original position, Taeyong’s back against his chest.

When he twists to look at Doyoung questioningly, all he gets is a quiet, “Like this.”

Taeyong has no issue with it. Doyoung’s boxer clad dick was still pleasurably pressing up against his ass, and this position just meant that Doyoung’s hands were going to be on him again.

He loves that.

Like second nature, Taeyong sinks into Doyoung’s hold, resting his hands on either side, rubbing his thumb against Doyoung’s knobby knees. He lets his head fall back on Doyoung’s left shoulder, and Doyoung moves to hooks his chin over his right.

Doyoung’s hands, cool and light, are back on his chest. His hums lowly, and Taeyong feels the vibrations against his back as Doyoung’s fingers graze over his nipples. They were never particularly sensitive, but with Doyoung, they were. Everything with Doyoung felt like Taeyong was constantly propped into a different dimension.

He runs his hands down Taeyong’s torso, and then up again, making sure to drag his nails as he did so, knowing full well that it drives the other crazy.

Doyoung presses his cheek to Taeyong’s neck, and Taeyong doesn’t have to look to know that he was looking at every curve and dent on his body. He keens under the attention, arching his back a little off Doyoung, only to have him shake his head, pushing at Taeyong’s hips to have them flush together again. Taeyong bites back a smile despite knowing Doyoung’s too busy staring at his chest and thighs to notice it, closing his eyes and letting Doyoung touch him as he pleases.

Hands are on his thighs next. He can feel the irritation coming off like radioactive waves when Doyoung pushes at his boxers until they’re bunched up at his pelvis, fingers caressing the smooth skin so very close to his half-hard erection, trying to leave nothing untouched.

It’s to tease, Taeyong knows; Doyoung playfully edging under the fabric to touch Taeyong _bare_ , pulling away quickly before Taeyong can get any real satisfaction from it, splaying his hands across Taeyong’s thighs instead. He alternates kneading them and simply leaving light caresses, both pulling contented sighs from Taeyong.

Finally, when Doyoung speaks, it’s hoarse and a little edgy. Taeyong’s a little too distracted to notice it, “How do you want it tonight?”

Taeyong’s eyes don’t even open, absorbed in Doyoung’s hands massaging him. “Whatever you want,” he manages throatily. Doyoung hums, hands moving upwards and closer to Taeyong’s crotch once again. He cups Taeyong’s erection over his boxers lightly, rubbing with his thumb ever so gently. Taeyong doesn’t bother with hiding the shiver that rolls through him, the closest he’s been to being properly touched for the first time tonight.

“Tell me what you like.”

Taeyong laughs breathily, knowing without the slightest of doubt that Doyoung was aware of what his touches were already doing to him.

“You know what I like,” Taeyong angles to bury his nose into Doyoung’s nape, latching his lips there in an open-mouthed kiss as Doyoung starts to thrum his fingers against Taeyong’s clothed dick.

“When I touch you?” Doyoung answers, stroking Taeyong firmly. Once.

Taeyong moves his lips away with a muted cry, resuming his position with his head near hanging off Doyoung’s shoulder.

“Yes,” he breathes.

“With my hands?” Doyoung squeezes him this time, long and hard enough for Taeyong to actually feel a _tiny_ bit relieved.

“Yes.”

Taeyong distantly wonders what’s gotten into Doyoung today. He was being extra attentive, more so than usual, which was already slow and careful enough to Taeyong’s absolute liking. He liked it when they went slow, when they did things together, when Doyoung showered him with attention.

It’s was just perfect that Doyoung loved having his hands all over Taeyong.

“Where?”

Taeyong forgets that they were ever having a conversation. “Huh?”

Doyoung laughs, knowing his ministrations were currently the bane of Taeyong’s attention span, “Where should I touch you?”

“Anywhere,” Taeyong bucks his hips into Doyoung’s hands in one swift, contradictory movement. He moans loudly when Doyoung relents, digging the heel of his palm pleasurably into Taeyong’s erection. “Everywhere.”

“Everywhere?” Doyoung echoes.

It sounds triumphant. Taeyong doesn’t pick it up.

“Yes,” Taeyong covers Doyoung’s hand with his, guiding Doyoung to stroke him the way he wanted. He moans into Doyoung’s neck when Doyoung follows willingly, sending courses of ecstasy up his spine when he feels Doyoung’s hard-on pressed against him tight. Grinding his ass back, Taeyong exhales as Doyoung groans. “ _Yes_ , Doyoung.”

Taeyong rolls his hips back again, almost bouncing harshly down onto Doyoung, and he revels in the hiss that Doyoung makes, hands tightening around Taeyong’s own erection. Sensing the chain of action, Taeyong braces a hand on Doyoung’s knee, the other finding its way to Doyoung’s hair. He lifts himself just enough to slam back into Doyoung’s crotch, and then up into his hand.

Doyoung reciprocates easily, and they groan together when Doyoung thrusts up to meet with Taeyong, stroking him harder.

It’s several moments later that Doyoung’s panting into Taeyong’s ear, “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“ _Hah_ – ” Taeyong’s hips stutter when Doyoung gives him a squeeze, and he forgets to roll back, hips surging forth to chase his own desires. “I was – going to say the same about you.”

Doyoung moans when Taeyong sits back heavily, pushing onto Doyoung’s dick straight on, swivelling his hips to feel it rub against himself. It’s confusing, switching between circling his hips and grinding down, but it works, enough to have Doyoung rutting up into Taeyong too.

“Doyoung,” Taeyong gasps, precome leaking from all the foreplay, from all the touching and grinding. “I – I want more.”

Cursing under his breath, Doyoung assents, moving from under Taeyong to get on his knees. Even though Doyoung’s hands have never once left his hips, Taeyong still whines at the loss of warmth pressed up against his ass. They help each other out of their remaining underwear and Taeyong inhales sharply when Doyoung kisses the tip of his dick, licking the precome away without any deliberation.

He contemplates asking Doyoung to suck him off (or asking Doyoung if he can suck _him_ off) or getting down on his back to open his legs for Doyoung, but it turns out that he’s going to be doing neither when Doyoung fixes him firmly on his front, chest and thighs against the bed. It’s a position that they’ve never taken together, but Taeyong doesn’t voice his thoughts when Doyoung brushes past to reach for the lube in their bedside table. He catches Doyoung before he retreats behind him, pulling his black-haired boyfriend into a languid kiss, not minding the taste of himself on Doyoung’s tongue.

Taeyong grabs one of Doyoung’s pillows to hug while said boy moves to reposition himself. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent that’s left on the pillow, enjoying the way it felt like he was hugging Doyoung too.

It’s two heartbeats until Doyoung’s hands are on his ass, squeezing soundly. Taeyong bites into the corner of the pillow, muffling a moan. His ears are flaming when Doyoung continues to kneads his rotund cheeks, and he knows that if he were already on his knees, they would’ve so easily given way.

Doyoung takes his time. Taeyong jolts into the bed when he feels Doyoung biting modestly into the soft flesh, licking over them, cool saliva relieving the pleasurable sting. He sucks hard too, and Taeyong lets slip moan after moan, unable to control himself, not when Doyoung is groaning into his ass.

“Can you get on your knees, baby?” Doyoung says with a low voice, encouragingly holding onto Taeyong by the hook of his hips. Taeyong nods, suddenly feeling how worn out he was when his knees slip on the blanket. Doyoung catches him with a coo.

Taeyong waits impatiently for the sound of their lube bottle being uncapped, but it doesn’t come. All Taeyong feels is Doyoung’s hands on his ass. Urgent to have Doyoung in him, Taeyong moves to rise onto his elbows, but the kiss Doyoung leaves on the small of his back stops him in his tracks.

It happens before Taeyong even processes it,

Doyoung spreads his ass cheeks, planting a wet kiss right over his opening.

Taeyong shoots up onto his hands with a startled yelp, and there isn’t any time given for him to recover. Doyoung, spurred by the reaction, _licks_ his hole with the flat of his tongue, following the curve of Taeyong’s spine until he reaches the halfway point of the length of his back. It’s like a fire in Taeyong’s mind, unable to decide if he should focus on the heat on his ass or the long stripe of saliva that Doyoung’s left.

Doyoung makes the decision for him, switching out the hard lick for a slew of kitten licks over Taeyong’s hole and perineum without wasting much more time. It’s so very incredibly _wet_ from just Doyoung’s mouth on him, but the rolls of saliva dripping down his balls feel like a god given gift.

Taeyong’s legs quiver under the sheer intensity of how _good_ it feels, and he tries to ration his breaths when he feels Doyoung’s breath ghost over his sac. The pleasant sleepiness that’d come with Doyoung’s relaxing touches were long gone, and in its place, is Taeyong feeling every single breath of air that hits his skin, every single lick Doyoung pushes against his rim, every single time his teeth scrapes heavenly at the edge of the curve of his ass.

He can’t form the words, so all he supplies are whines and moans and whimpers and cries, resisting the primal urge to push back against Doyoung’s face. Doyoung takes every delighted praise with unworded thanks, hands still spreading at his cheeks, further apart, wider, so that he can reach more, _taste_ more.

Taeyong thumps his head into the pillow when Doyoung pulls back to breathe. He tries to speak again but everything just comes out gurgled, the smell of Doyoung on the pillow not at all helping with clearing his thoughts. For a moment, he thinks he’s been spared, but before he can fully catch a breath, Doyoung’s lips are on him again, stealing all the air from his lungs.

“ _Doyoung_ ,” he snaps, twisting under Doyoung’s firm hold when Doyoung’s tongue pushes past the rim. Taeyong sees black for a good second and then he’s back, and Doyoung’s tongue is in him, smooth and hot and wet and everything at once, Taeyong isn’t even thinking. His eyes are so close to rolling into the back of his head and he’s drooling from how wide his mouth is hanging open. He curls his toes tight when Doyoung licks against his walls, and his knuckles are going to pop from his fingers, what with how tight he’s grasping onto their sheets.

“ _D – D – Do – young_ ,” Taeyong can barely make out the two syllables, and he clenches involuntarily onto Doyoung’s tongue, whimpering when he easily slips out. Then, back in.

Doyoung purposefully hums, sending vibrations up Taeyong’s ass and spine, making him bow up against the bed. He keeps at it, humming almost _happily_ as he fucks Taeyong shallowly with his tongue, reducing his boyfriend into a mush pile of garbled moans.

The pillow isn’t working as a substitute anymore. Taeyong wants reach back to tug at Doyoung’s hair, at Doyoung’s _anything_ to feel him under his hand. Taeyong’s already at wit’s end, using all of his energy not to collapse onto his front.

Just when he thinks he’s going to come from just Doyoung’s tongue, a hand is on his dick, smearing his precome over his length. Taeyong chokes back a sob, giving in to the urge to thrust down into Doyoung’s slicked hand. It throws Doyoung off and his chin hits the swell of Taeyong’s ass. As quick as it’d brought relief, Doyoung retracts his hand, choosing to hold Taeyong still instead.

“No, no, no,” Taeyong drives his head into Doyoung’s pillow. “More, D – Doyoung, I need m – more,” he begs desperately, starting to feel faint from holding himself up, from being eaten out, from all the attention.

Doyoung groans, and it reverberates _in_ Taeyong, driving him up the wall and so close over the edge. He slips a finger alongside his tongue, and Taeyong lets out a heavy breath. The relief of the stretch is amazing but Taeyong wasn’t going to last, not with how taut his groin is feeling.

“Can’t – Doyoung – I _can’t_ ,” he thrashes his head from side to side, shuddering violently when Doyoung pulls out completely, diving just two fingers in. “ _Doyoung_ ,” he breathes in so deep it hits his gut, “Do _young_ – I – ”

The wind is _knocked_ out of him when Doyoung flips him over roughly, fingers still up his ass. Taeyong very well screams, loud enough for their neighbours on both sides to hear, scrambling to clutch at the bed when he’s thrown off his balance, head spinning. His limbs bounce against their bed twice and he’s sure something in his back has cracked, but the comfort of being on his back, as he usually is, soothes him. His chest is heaving and he has half the mind to yell at Doyoung for preforming some sort of acrobatic stunt on him without any warning, but then he catches _sight_ of Doyoung.

His lips are an angry pink and so is the area around it, shiny with saliva. He’s breathing so heavily, a near match to Taeyong’s own rapid breaths, and his pupils are so positively _blown._

Taeyong almost finishes at the sight of his boyfriend, wrecked.

Doyoung fucks him swiftly with just two fingers, studying Taeyong’s face as he angles right, searching and searching. Taeyong uses the last bit of his energy to prop his legs up, digging his heels into their bed as he opens up wide.

He seizes up when Doyoung finds his prostate, pushing and rubbing relentlessly when Taeyong cries aloud, tears brimming when he nears the end.

“ _Doyoung_ ,” he draws out the moan, squeezing his eyes shut as the name rolls off his lips. It’s been nearly a year and it still has the same effect of him, like some sort of catalyst that triggers a never-ending wave of _warmth_ through him, his heart. “Doyoung, Doyoung,” he slurs softly, chanting it mostly to himself. The knowledge of Doyoung revelling in it as much as he was was enough to have him going.

Tonight is full of surprises and he doesn’t expect Doyoung’s lips to close around the head of his dick, swallowing him in one go. Taeyong’s hands leave the bed at record speed, tangling them into Doyoung’s hair now that he’s within reach. Doyoung groans around him, wrapping him in heat and covering him in saliva.

Taeyong can’t help but let his tears fall when Doyoung stares up at him, eyes dark and greedy, smirking around his dick.

It’s _so_ good. It’s always so good with Doyoung that Taeyong’s pretty much sure his boyfriend’s ruined him with it. No one else will ever be enough. It just _has_ to be Doyoung.

He yanks harshly at Doyoung’s hair, a warning sign, but Doyoung only pulls up enough to still have the tip in his mouth. With a look of determination, Doyoung’s fingers rubs insistently at his prostate _and_ he sucks hard on Taeyong’s dick, sending him into overdrive.

It’s overwhelming, and Taeyong struggles to breathe through it, air hitching in his throat. His back arches so high off the bed that he thinks he might’ve really pulled something this time. Doyoung pulls his fingers out, but he strokes Taeyong until it’s easy to breathe again.

Taeyong tugs gently at Doyoung’s hair, guiding him until their lips are merely inches apart. Doyoung jerks back when Taeyong tilts up for a kiss, as if he were afraid Taeyong would actually _care_. Rolling his eyes, Taeyong yanks Doyoung down roughly, melding their lips together.

When Doyoung slumps against him, the fully hard erection is not hard to miss. Taeyong looks down, lips parting in a pleased surprise when he sees that Doyoung’s already leaking madly, close to finishing as well.

Just from eating Taeyong out. God.

“Want to fuck me?” Taeyong asks breathily, patting around for the bottle of lube that Doyoung’d reached for before earlier.

Doyoung’s eyes widen, and Taeyong wipes at the leftover spit (his own or Doyoung’s, Taeyong had no clue), “Are you sure?”

“I can handle it,” Taeyong laughs, pushing the lube into Doyoung’s hands. He would offer to ride Doyoung too, but his legs weren’t nearly working enough to last as long as he wanted to. Doyoung moves slowly, and Taeyong knows it’s just to make sure he doesn’t get hurt. “Come on,” he chastises, playfully knocking the back of his feet against Doyoung’s ass. “Any minute now.”

Doyoung ignores him, still careful as he slicks up three fingers. Taeyong wants to argue that he’s stretched out enough (he’s not), but knowing that Doyoung’ll just disregard him again, he settles back against the bed, waiting for Doyoung’s fingers.

It’s a little tender, but the stretch is welcome. Taeyong keeps his face free of wrinkles, aware of how closely Doyoung’s staring at him, searching for any signs of pain or discomfort.

Three fingers are easy to accommodate, and its pleasure over pain quickly. Taeyong holds onto Doyoung’s pillow, turning to the side to take his deep breaths with the innate smell of his boyfriend.

“I’m right here, y’know.”

Taeyong, in efforts to irk him even more, takes an even deeper breath, nestling his nose into the pillow, “Yeah, but you’re also over _there_.”

Doyoung huffs, stretching Taeyong out one last time before pulling his fingers out for the second time. Taeyong cracks an eye open to grin at Doyoung, proud at his win to have Doyoung hurry up. Condoms are forgone, as it’d been six months into their relationship. Taeyong didn’t like the feel of it and Doyoung had nothing against it since they were both clean and devoted.

The slide in is comfortable, what with the immense amount of prep and slick, and Taeyong lets go of the pillows to beckon Doyoung close.

He follows, and the shift in Taeyong makes him moan in pleasure. It’s too soon for him to get it going again, but it’s long enough to rid the oversensitivity. Doyoung is hard and hot in Taeyong, and every thrust he makes feels like he’s filling Taeyong to the brim, every inch of his walls clamping down on Doyoung.

“So good,” Taeyong sighs without thinking, wrapping his legs around Doyoung to give him more space to work with.

“Yeah?” Doyoung says, hiding his face into the crook of Taeyong’s neck. He starts to suck a hickey there, having forgotten their agreement to keep everything collar and below, but Taeyong doesn’t stop him, _wanting_ it. It was fall anyway; scarves were invented for this reason alone, he was sure.

“Always,” Taeyong kisses him tenderly. Doyoung exhales into the kiss, and Taeyong inhales the puff of breath like a drug.

At that, Doyoung speeds up. Faster, harder. Taeyong rests his hands low on Doyoung’s hips, whispering dirty words and praises to spur him on. Doyoung grips Taeyong’s hair hard, heaving loudly into the pillow as he nears completion.

“So fucking _good_ ,” Taeyong hisses, and Doyoung doubles over, thrusting deeper than he has of yet, releasing hot into Taeyong. Doyoung finishing in him is enough to sate Taeyong, and he doesn’t mind the soreness that’s sure to come with after every coupling.

Doyoung sprawls onto Taeyong’s side of the bed, lifelessly pulling at one of Taeyong’s pillows to shove under his head. Taeyong watches him as he sinks into it with a tired smile, blinking hard when Doyoung abruptly twists around to sniff childishly at the pillow. Taeyong snorts at his love’s antics,

“I’m right here, y’know,” he parrots, licking his lips when he sees Doyoung smile. The one that takes up half his face.

“Yeah, but you’re _way_ over there,” Doyoung clicks his tongue.

Taeyong reaches forward, “Come here then.”

Doyoung narrows his eyes but he’s wriggling forward in the next second, until their noses touch and their lips are brushing. Taeyong takes Doyoung’s lower lip between his, sucking on it gently as he reaches over to trail his fingers over Doyoung’s cheek. They kiss lazily, procrastinating on the need to get up and get clean, too immersed in each other to be bothered with such things as hygiene.

“Did you like it today?” Doyoung asks quietly when Taeyong deems his lips well kissed.

He shoves the giggle back down his throat. It’s cute, how Doyoung’s always concerned. It didn’t used to be, especially since Taeyong’s so sure in his bones that no one will ever make him feel the way Doyoung does. Mildly frustrating was what it was, that Doyoung never seemed to fully believe him. Though, Taeyong grew to accept it, and he’ll tell Doyoung that he’s the best Taeyong’s ever had, every single day, if it’s enough for him.

“Yes, always,” Taeyong gives him a kiss. And then several more before, “Where did you learn how to do that?”

A blush rises to Doyoung’s cheeks, colouring it redder than it already was, “Uh, a magazine?”

Taeyong blinks, “A magazine?”

“Yes,” Doyoung grumbles, kissing Taeyong in hopes of getting the conversation to move along.

“What magazine?” Taeyong isn’t deterred by them.

Doyoung shoves his face into Taeyong’s pillow, muttering his answer reluctantly.

“What?” Taeyong slides closer to hear, near climbing over Doyoung.

“The Ask Ashley section of Cosmopolitan.”

Taeyong doesn’t stop the laughter this time, not even when Doyoung’s whining at him to stop, “What’s wrong with getting advice from Cosmopolitan? That’s what it’s for right?”

Honestly, Taeyong’d expected Doyoung to say that it was Yuta telling him these tips and tricks and hearing that his boyfriend was getting sex advice from some fifty-year-old with an overactive mind just _cracks_ him up.

Doyoung frowns deeply, not understanding the reason for Taeyong’s laughter. “Don’t laugh at me,” he whines. Then, “I just want to make you feel good.”

The laughter dies then, and Taeyong’s heart softens at the words. He moves to pat at Doyoung’s hair, tucking away the strands that’ve gone astray, “You make me feel good all the time, Doyoung.” He says it with as much sincerity. And, “I wish you wouldn’t doubt how good it is for me.”

“I’m not saying that it’s not a good place for advice, because tonight was _amazing_ ,” Taeyong says carefully, resting his hand on Doyoung’s cheek. Doyoung leans proudly into the touch. “But if you ever wanted to discuss anything with me, you can, okay? You know you can talk to me, right?” Doyoung nods. Taeyong kisses him as a reward, “I want you to feel good too, love.”

“You make me feel good,” Doyoung murmurs, brushing his nose against Taeyong’s. “Only you,” he sighs.

Taeyong believes it. He felt the same, “Just you.”

“I love you,” Doyoung mumbles sleepily.

Taeyong knows, “I love you too.”

 

(“I don’t want to clean up,” Doyoung whines, arms curling around Taeyong’s waist as he tries to get off their bed. “Let me sleep, please?”

“You’ve slept for a half hour,” Taeyong deadpans, yanking Doyoung forcefully until he was half hanging off the bed. “You’re going to itch in the morning if you don’t shower!”

“I can live with that,” Doyoung deflects, trying to get Taeyong to lie back down.

“Well, I can’t,” Taeyong tuts, shaking Doyoung off him. Doyoung fakes a sob. “I’m going to shower. You can stay here alone, or you can join me in there. You decide.”

After the sheets are stripped and replaced, Doyoung is clean and huddled comfortably in Taeyong’s arms within the hour.

 _Works like a charm_ , Taeyong thinks, pressing a kiss to Doyoung’s crown, not caring that his hair was still wet.)

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos + comments / criticisms are greatly appreciated ♡ feedback warmly welcomed! [twitter](https://twitter.com/jenhyungs) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/jenhyung) | [more notes](https://jenhyung.tumblr.com)


	8. the one with the toothbrush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> taeyong / doyoung, fluff, 1k+  
> (takes place after doyoung gets his job at 84films)
> 
>  **asode time period** : year 7, april

 

Taeyong shuts his laptop with a quiet groan, leaving it gently on the coffee table and stifling the creeping yawn that follows when he rises to his feet for a stretch. He’s been working on lab reports for hours on end since arriving home after work, swept away by paper after paper, letting time escape him. When the clock on his phone reminds him that it’s already dead into the night, it’s more than enough to convince him to end the Friday night and head for bed.

There, Doyoung is already passed out atop the comforter, arms and legs spread out across their bed, uncaring that it’s supposed to be one that’s meant for two. He’s still dressed in his work clothes, the _84films_ logo printed clearly on the back of a navy-blue shirt, much to Taeyong’s dismay. Though, he lets it slide when he remembers the tiring day Doyoung’d complained of having.

Being a videographer for a medium sized media company is not an easy task. Taeyong doesn’t know exactly what Doyoung does at work, but he does know that it’s a wide range of jobs that leave his boyfriend tired to the bone at the end of every day. Even with Taeyong’s relentless nagging on how Doyoung should rest more, worried at his love’s paling complexion and thinning waist, Doyoung still perseveres, loving the job too much to talk a well-deserved break.

It’s not often he gets to bed later than Doyoung does, no matter how hard he tries to stay up, wanting to have even just a minute of pillow talk. Though, he knows better than to wake Doyoung when he’s _this_ drained, and Taeyong would rather push aside his desire to have a late-night conversation than disturb Doyoung’s much needed sleep.

However, hygiene is of utmost priority in this household and Taeyong is certainly not about to let Doyoung fall asleep with his sticky self and in dirty clothes.

“Love,” he whispers, resting a hand on Doyoung’s shoulder, shaking him gently. “Doyoung… You need to take a shower.”

Doyoung fidgets, shrugging Taeyong’s hand off with as much strength as a baby bunny.

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong says tenderly, peering over to sweep Doyoung’s hair out of his eyes. “But I promise you’ll feel better after taking one.”

“No – ” Doyoung croaks, hoarse and pitifully powerless. “Sleep. Please.”

Taeyong sighs, watching Doyoung sink himself further into the bed, absolutely unwilling to leave it. He contemplates _dragging_ Doyoung out of bed and coercing him into taking a shower together, like he’s done before, but it’s really far too late in the night for it; Taeyong will never hear the end of it if he got them both hurt for cleanliness’ sake. Again.

When Taeyong pulls his hand away to move onto the usual routine that warrants more effort on his part, Doyoung reaches blindly out for him, nearly smacking him across the face.

“Where’s you – huh, going,” he mumbles, face buried by the blanket. Doyoung pats the bed twice, gesturing to the tiny spot he’s left, “Sleep. With me.”

“I love you, but – ” Taeyong tuts, “I’m really not getting into bed with you smelling like that.”

And so, he goes, into the en suite with the goal of cleaning his boyfriend up. When Doyoung is this tired, Taeyong takes the bathroom _to_ him – he readies a toothbrush with toothpaste, and wets a towel, leaving it on the counter on standby.

He hears Doyoung groaning from the bed still, too tired to follow Taeyong into the bathroom, yet another sign that hauling him into the shower would’ve been a terribly idea.

Taeyong returns to the room with the toothbrush, rolling Doyoung over with a considerably large amount of effort.

Immediately, Doyoung starts to whine, “Please – no – no toothbrush – ”

It makes Taeyong laugh, how Doyoung already knows of the situation even in his zonked-out state, showing how much of a pattern this really is for them. Doyoung’s protests are feeble, and he can’t fight Taeyong when the toothbrush is placed firmly into his open mouth, mid-whine.

It leaves Doyoung no choice but to get up, needing a sink now that he’s already a step into it.

“Brush your teeth,” Taeyong says, still holding onto the handle. There’ve been times Doyoung’d chosen to let the toothbrush drop to the bed in revolt, toothpaste splattering everywhere, which only meant more cleaning up for Taeyong and more arguing for them both in the morning. “I won’t make you shower, just brush your teeth.”

“I really can’t – ” Doyoung sighs, mouth full of toothbrush. “I’m so tired – please – ”

“C’mon, love, I promise.” Taeyong pulls Doyoung to sit upright, holding him steady lest he falls back into bed. Doyoung is a little more obedient tonight, grabbing onto the toothbrush with his right hand and reaching out for Taeyong with his left. “The quicker we get this done, the quicker we’ll be in bed together, okay?”

Silently, Taeyong manages to lead Doyoung, whose eyes are still shut with sleep and fueled by the promise of returning to bed together, towards the bathroom, placing him comfortably on the toilet seat. Doyoung starts to brush his teeth automatically, head hanging low as he does so.

Taeyong, on the other hand, whizzes around the bathroom to get himself cleaned up too, shedding his shirt and stripping to his boxer briefs, brushing his teeth and washing up. When he’s done, he starts to help Doyoung out of his shirt, careful not to whack Doyoung in the face like he did the last time he was too hasty.

“Why – clothes – ”

“They’re dirty,” Taeyong answers easily. He grabs Doyoung by the bare shoulders and positions him instead by the sink, moving him like ragdoll. Like a mannequin, Doyoung barely moves, only swaying from side to side, unbeknownst to himself. Taeyong works quickly, unbuttoning Doyoung’s jeans and helping Doyoung step out of them too, tossing the pair into the laundry basket.

“Can’t – ” Doyoung huffs, swatting Taeyong away when he moves to wipe at Doyoung’s body with the wet towel, just to get the ick-factor reduced enough. “Can’t – not tonight – ”

“Hmm,” Taeyong merely hums, focused instead on running the towel up Doyoung’s arms and down his legs, across his chest and back too. He throws the dirty towel into the basket, reaching for the separate face towel he’d prepared.

“No – ” Doyoung teeters, stumbling around half naked, trying to avoid Taeyong’s fussy hands. “No _sex_. Tonight – tired.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes, reaching up to press the damp face towel against Doyoung’s cheeks and running it across his forehead, ridding it of the sweat that’d stuck.

“Yes,” he agrees, pulling the toothbrush out of Doyoung’s hand and running it under the tap. He slots it back into the holder next to his own, “We’re not having sex tonight, don’t you worry.”

Doyoung frowns, mouth still filled with toothpaste forth and eyes still closed, “Why not?”

Taeyong gives Doyoung’ face one last wipe before thwarting the towel into the basket, reaching for the cup half full of water he’d readied and pressing it to Doyoung’s lips. He takes it easily, body moving on muscle memory as he gurgles and spits.

It’s only a few moments later that Taeyong is ushering Doyoung back out into the bedroom, yanking the blanket free and near kicking his boyfriend into bed. He flutters around the room to turn the lights out and shut the door to the bathroom, shuffling over to his side of the bed and finally, _finally_ , joining Doyoung under the covers.

He scoots closer to Doyoung, who’d already made himself comfortable but opened up his arms naturally when Taeyong reaches for him, tangling them together. As much as he’d wished Doyoung’d taken a shower, it’s an off-night and Taeyong’s pleased with just having the smell of Doyoung surrounding him, rather than having to keep a distance knowing that he was still riddled with germs.

“No sex?” Doyoung manages to mumble, pressing his nose into Taeyong’s crown.

Taeyong pinches him lightly on the waist, “You’ll fall asleep on me.”

Doyoung sighs, “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, after you shower.”

“Okay,” Doyoung agrees happily, satisfaction obvious even in his soft tone. He hugs Taeyong closer, yawning when he says, “Love you. Thank you.”

_For everything._

Taeyong kisses Doyoung’s throat, the only thing he can reach, “I love you too.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt and part of twitter roulette ;; [twitter](https://twitter.com/jenhyungs) | [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/jenhyung)


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